#they aren’t normal and don’t experience joy when they do like

[eamour]

emotions do not matter.

! this post was highly inspired by former loa blogger aphrodite apprentice !

emotions and feelings, the way neville coins these words, are of different nature. when speaking of emotions, we are speaking of unconscious emotional experiences. feelings, however, are a conscious act and usually a reaction to our emotions — which, according to neville, are the secret to help us manifest.

emotions vs feelings.

an emotion is an immediate reaction to your emotional state of mind, whereas a feeling remains a lot longer and is felt for a longer period of time. emotions could be joy, fear, anger, lust or sadness. the counterparts in feelings would then be happiness, anxiety, bitterness, love or depression. if something unpleasant happens in your life, you will react to it emotionally first. only later, you will be able to form a feeling. as you can see, an emotion is a lot more intense and often manifests in a physical reaction (ex. facial expressions), not based on any reasoning while in contrast your feeling is based on logical reasoning. you could say a feeling is a way of explaining an emotion with thoughts which you have felt due to external experiences. this also means that not every feeling will always be accurate enough to explain an emotion and how you actually feel emotionally.

emotions cannot manifest ...

once again, a feeling isn’t the emotion itself. your feeling has nothing to do with our emotional state of mind but rather your mental state of mind. that means that your feelings, longterm, are more concerned with what you feel to be true or false, right or wrong and real or unreal.

mental · relates to the mind; thinking process.

emotional · relates to emotions; feeling process.

... only feelings can.

especially because a feeling does not necessarily have to correlate to an emotion, it is entirely up to you to define your feeling. you could replace feeling with what you accept, know or believe to be true. it's a thought. and an emotion isn't. you may not help the way you emotionally feel — and you shouldn’t! you should never suppress an emotion and feel sad, angry, etc. — but you can make the conscious decision to define your feeling. and since a feeling is a state, after all, you can manifest anything you'd like while feeling like you are at your lowest (or highest). your emotions will not manifest!

emotions arise.

as i was saying, an emotion is a pretty much sudden response. you may lose something and feel bad about it, maybe you had a fight with your friend or perhaps you were told some unsettling news. whatever it is, you will always feel some intense type of way from time to time.

emotions fade away.

the thing is, emotions come and go. you may feel super joyful one minute and then feel super sad the next. that’s totally normal, and we are definitely not trying to fix our wonderful human nature in any way.

emotional responses.

emotions are a response. when manifesting, when changing your feeling, you might also experience emotions of some sort. you may feel euphoric of manifesting something that has always felt very prestigious or hardly available to you.

but the same way, you could not feel anything at all. some manifestations aren’t going to move you the way some manifestations do, but that’s not an issue! the premise is, you don’t HAVE to feel excited. you don’t have to jump out of happiness whenever you think about how you manifested to find your keys you had lost the other day. remember, emotions come naturally. you don’t have to force them.

accepting and persisting.

the only thing you really have to do is to accept your desire as yours and persist in that assumption. feel it to be true, to be real, to be factual. that’s what feeling the wish fulfilled means. the feeling of your assumption to be realty.

with love, ella.

#law of assumption #loa #loassumption #neville goddard #edward art #manifestation #manifesting #manifest #the law of assumption #spiritual #spirituality #loablr #loa tumblr #manifest it #master manifestor #manifesting it #how to manifest #manifest your dreams #manifest your life #manifest your reality #loa blog #affirm and persist #eiypo #feeling is the secret #shifting #shifting realities #reality shift #reality shifting #shiftblr #imagination creates reality

[millienia]

the c in NRC stands for cat

synopsis: in which heartslabyul deals with a cat loving no-magic having ramshackle prefect. (headcanons) gn!yuu

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

when he saw you clinging to the raccoon-cat-thing at the entrance ceremony, he did not know how to react.

normal people would panic. normal people would avoid a fire-breathing monster-cat-whatever that was spewing absolute nonsense.

apparently not you, though. although, one could say you already aren’t normal, considering the lack of magic. it wasn’t just not that much potential, you were basically in the negatives.

anyways, cats.

he got a peek under your ceremonial robes, and you were wearing..

a pajama shirt with a cat print on it. it looked horrendous.

riddle himself grew up with.. well, a cat. beastperson. so he probably would only have a surface level of appreciation for their greatness.

6/10 for cat lovers, i guess. he wouldn’t really mind, but he’d think it a tad strange. lower points because it took him a while to finally start letting grim into areas of festivity. 

TREY CLOVER

this guy has siblings. like, siblings siblings. he’s used to being around people with strange interests (his brother tried to feed him a live insect once. not fun).

so, i’m sure he appreciates that your interests are on the much safer side of the wide, wide spectrum. 

except when the two of you hang out while he’s baking and suddenly ace and deuce are complaining about cat hair in their tarts.

please do not bring your cats in the kitchen, thank you very much.

he’d feed your cat(s)! very sweet guy.

8/10 for cat lovers! good ascend from riddles, except two points taken from him because one, the Cat™ isn’t allowed in the kitchen and two, he just seems like a dog person to me.

CATER DIAMOND

please do not turn the great grim into a marketable plushie.

cater.

just kidding, he wouldn’t do that.

or would he?

i think he’d be a good cat co-parent! just like trey, i think he’d feed your cat when you can’t, he’d catsit while you’re in class.. etc, etc.

mostly because the posts he makes of your cat blow up, but also because he likes your cat!

the level fluctuates depending if this cat is grim or not. please do not ask me why.

8/10 for cat lovers! not bad, not bad at all! except, now there’s merch of grim- and while he’s proud of himself (this is only to be expected for the great grim! according to him), you just wish you got some of the revenue.

ACE TRAPPOLA

no.

just, no.

i think he’d look at a cat litter and go, “what’s that?”. maybe he’d even try to sniff it.

gives off grew up with a dog vibes, i don’t know why.

he goes like “EUGH” when he finds cat hair in the food you made for him.

you felt kinda bad, but he ate it anyways while complaining. you were pretty conflicted.

he’d be.. i don’t know. unremarkable. not that good, though.

5/10 for the cat lovers. no comment. this gremlin, i swear.

DEUCE SPADE

he LITERALLY isn’t any better than ace.

maybe he used to feed some of the stray cats on the way home from school when he was in elementary, but that’s probably the extent of his experience.

will also complain about cat hair. politely.

“uhm.. i think grims hair is in my soup?” kind of polite. except he’s grimacing and staring at grim like the cat just insulted his mother and all his ancestors.

he will also sniff your cat litter. and grim will laugh in the heartslabyul first year duo’s faces.

thanks, grim.

5/10 for the cat lovers.. again. he’s really just the same. he’d probably be nicer than ace, but the latter just has more experience with pets. probably. hopefully.

special guest, IDIA SHROUD!

do i even need to say anything?

you two have matching cat print pajamas. ortho would cry tears of joy if he could.

you bring your cats to ignihyde and you all hang out. <3

you, idia, and your 23 cats. it really is the life.

he paid you in genesis crystals for permission to pat one of your cats on the head.

you two have a cat lovers gc where you just send cat pictures and talk about your cats, very fun.

10/10 for cat lovers!  first ever 10/10, and it’s from idia shroud? riddle is seething. great cat parent! though, he’s a bit attached. it’s okay, though, he buys your cats toys.

#“he is half of my soul.” ; my writing #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover #trey clover x reader #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #twst headcanons #twst wonderland #heartslabyul #heartslabyul x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #ignihyde

[tired-biscuit]

naruto is the kind of guy who begs to eat you out. like, he has *never* played it cool and you’ve always known he was into you. but one night he’s hanging out at your place and you look so cozy and domestic and soft and squishy and he just—“c’mon please let me make you feel good! you just look so cute!! i’ll be so good at it, i swear!!!” and when you say yes it’s the first time you see naruto actually focus on something that’s not training or ramen (turns out your pussy is the third and final interest naruto has in life) and he absolutely demolishes you—leaves you without your pants or your soul—on the couch.

18+ MDNI // cw: oral (f!receiving), unestablished relationship.

this is so cute, especially for like a situationship kind of thingy.

like, maybe there is an obvious spark dancing between you even if you aren’t exactly official yet. maybe you hang out a lot, but don’t call it dating just yet even if you love to do stuff together.

maybe you keep him company at the food places that are open 24/7 because he tends to get bored and hungry a lot and goes to bed super late, and maybe he sometimes spends the night at your place as a result afterwards; wrapped in your embrace and wearing nothing else but his underwear because he doesn’t have anything else to sleep in — of course.

maybe you keep making people assume that you’re a couple because of how you always make sure to sit together whenever you’re out with a group of friends, or how his arm is always draped around your shoulders, or how you’re constantly ruffling his hair and hugging him goodbye.

maybe you’ve even shared a couple of kisses and some heavy petting here and there whenever one drink too many got involved and he offered to walk you home from the bar even if he could barely stand upright himself.

that kind of thing.

so when he makes an actual move on you for the first time — completely sober and halfway through an excruciatingly shitty movie that he picked — you’re kind of surprised, but at the same time… not really?

after all, it’s pretty obvious that he likes you, it’s outright spelled on his forehead. and him being the confident guy who’s super open about his feelings, he certainly isn’t the type to deny it when he’s already dug himself a hole this deep. quite on the contrary, he tells you that he likes you right to your face.

you attract him. he finds you so cute, especially tonight, when you’re dressed in your little top that hugs you in all the right places and the comfortable shorts that sometimes ride up high enough for him to see the fat of your ass whenever you angle yourself just right.

but despite asking if he can eat you out and drowning you in compliments and eager promises, he can be quite the little shit when he wants to be, you know?

so he practically pins you down to the couch under the pretense of playfighting and initiates a doting attack of kisses that are peppered all over your face and that make your heart outright flutter with joy the moment you tell him yes. you can’t really blame him for it; he’s just very affectionate by default and has been waiting for literal ages to exhibit all that love he harbours for you.

you wiggle underneath him, trying to break free from under his weight so that you can return the favour, but his warm mouth is already making its way down your chest; leaving audible smooches that tickle and make you laugh quietly.

and even though he’s sunshine incarnate and all things good, he’s surprisingly strong when he wants to be. you squirm and instinctively try to push him away with the help of your legs, but it’s no use.

all it does is pull him closer. your legs are wrapped around his waist; he’s made himself so comfortable between them. his half hard cock is snug against your clothed pussy. the occasional friction you both experience makes you both breathe a little harder than you normally would and makes blood rush south.

he is very boyfriend material even if he isn’t your boyfriend, so the entire thing is literally just a series of loud kissy noises mixing with your squeals of his name. it’s fun and playful and sweet, just like he is.

and then before you know it, things escalate fast. he’s manhandling you into position, making you hug his head with your thighs as he licks you right over the cotton of your underwear, with your comfy shorts tossed somewhere on the floor and your cute top pushed so far up to the collar that both of your tits are out.

he’s messy and ardent to please. if the panties that you’re wearing are plain white, his drool will make them so damp that they’re practically see-through. he’ll make them stick to your pussy so that he can see the literal outline of it; tracing your sticky slit over and over again with the tip of his tongue and finger, shaping you out.

and then when those panties finally come off, sliding down your slightly trembling legs and ending up dangling from one ankle, he really goes to town.

he’s all sloppy kisses aimed at your cunt and tongue fucking and drool, drool, drool. he’s bright red cheeks and lustful blue eyes that remind you of a sea gone murky after a stormy night. he’s mussed hair in the colour of wheat that you just can’t stop weaving your fingers through, and an adorably smushed nose that keeps on pressing against your clit as he keeps on shoving his tongue in and out of your tight hole, tasting you so much and so deeply that your slick is practically dribbling down his chin.

he’s a calloused thumb being swiped over your nipple and a broad hand wrapped in bandages as it tigtens its grip around your thigh. he’s broad shoulders, a fast-beating heart and sweaty tan skin. he’s overstimulation and loud slurps and moans and raspy whimpers as he keeps moving his hips and practically humps the couch because of how fucking horny you make him.

and finally, he’s also ready to cum in his pants the moment he feels you clench around the two fingers he’s shoved into you at some point.

especially because the name that you end up moaning out is his.

#naruto smut #biscuit drabbles #naruto uzumaki smut #naruto x reader #naruto uzumaki x reader

[shentheauthor]

I cannot resist, but headcanons on the Harbingers' types? Like what they would like in a S/O? 🤭

Crabsolutely, friend

Gender neutral s/o, no content warnings

Pierro:

Someone calm

Preferably smart too

Like someone he can play chess with

And just drink tea quietly with

This man needs some peace in his life lmao

Please braid his hair, he is touch starved and needs affection, but he’s old and he can’t say it out loud

Capitano:

Someone who can protect themself

He will def protect you, but when he isn’t there, he wants to know you’ll be safe

Also, he would love a sparring partner as well as a romantic one

If you can keep up with him, color him impressed

I also feel like he isn’t much of a talker, so if you’re cool with just hanging out in silence, he will be drawn to you

Dottore:

A test subject /j

It would actually probably start out that way 😭😭

If you can hold an intelligent conversation and keep him amused, tho, he will stop trying to experiment on you

He will explode with joy if you ask him about his work

And if you listen and remember what he says? Whipped

Basically a good listener and someone who doesn’t mind his psychopathic tendencies lmao

Hell if you’re a bit of a murderous gremlin yourself, he’ll be even more into you

Bc then you can do horrible fucked up experiments ✨together✨

Columbina:

Someone cute who can sing duets with her

She wouldn’t mind whether you’re loud or quiet

She can put up with both

She isn’t super picky about partners, but a good singing voice is a green flag for her

She’d already be intrigued if you aren’t afraid of her, but if you don’t underestimate her either, you’ve definitely got an interested columbina on your hands

Arlecchino:

Probably someone interested in her work

She has high standards tho

Good listener, can cook, willing to adjust your schedule for her, good with kids, but also willing to harshly punish subordinates, etc

She wants someone like her

But maybe a bit nicer lmao

Pulcinella:

Like Pierro, he prefers quiet people

Someone willing to help him deal with stress without adding onto that stress

Also he wants someone good with kids

He will bring his partner with him to visit family and friends, so a social person is better

Just someone he can be quietly domestic and soft with

Gilf moment Fr

Scaramouche

I’m never gonna stop including him and Signora

Anyway tho, he wants someone quiet, but he will actually be somewhat pleasantly surprised if you talk back to him

You’d have to be careful, but he will like you if you can keep up with his rudeness and clap back without fear

Bonus points if you’re strong. He doesn’t want to “coddle” his partner, so he wants someone who can take care of themself

He would also want someone who can read him well. Understanding his moods is a must.

It’s hard to get him to open up, but he would really want someone willing to love him completely without leaving him

Abandonment issues go brrr

Sandrone:

A puppet

Like literally

But if she had to choose a partner who is a normal human, she would want someone who doesn’t care if she’s possessive

She is kind of a yandere, so if you’re into that, she is into you

Bonus points if you’re willing to cook for her

She forgets to eat a lot, and someone who takes care of her would be appreciated

Also, if you’re interested in her work

The way to an autistic’s heart is through the special interest /srs

Signora:

Someone who will love her unconditionally

Someone who doesn’t treat her like a monster

Someone who isn’t afraid of her

She would also love someone strong and smart

Preferably witty too

Like if she can have a healthy banter with you

Her type is Rostam, but if you aren’t Rostam, that’s ok

A strong and protective partner is perfect for her

She can take care of herself just fine, but the feeling of being cared about is unmatched

I miss her so much raaaahhhh

Pantalone:

He would want someone who lets him spoil them

Genuinely

He will lavish you with gifts if you will let him

ALSO, intelligence is a must

He doesn’t have patience for dull conversation

If finances bore you, he actually doesn’t mind

He knows everyone is different

As long as you don’t steal from him, he won’t care

Someone who cares enough to help him de-stress after work is a green flag

He would also love it if you can cook or sew, and is actually open to learning your hobbies if they interest him

Please play board games with him, he’d be so happy

Also he wants a good listener who will hear him ramble without complaining

Tartaglia:

Do you like kids?

Are you open to learning to cook?

Can you spar with him and provide a challenge?

If the answer to all of these questions is “yes,” congrats, you are exactly his type

He doesn’t care much about looks, he really just wants someone who’s fun and loves his family

Extroverts are perfect for him

He would prefer a partner who’s okay with drinking, bc Snezhnaya go brrr (literally)

But if you aren’t comfortable with that, that’s okay

Definitely the most fun to be with if you’re outgoing, so he would want you to be adventurous too

He would also like talkative people, bc then he can listen to you ramble <3

Rule #1 tho: don’t be afraid of him. Treat him like a person, not a weapon

He doesn’t mind being a weapon, but if his partner is soft with him and doesn’t demand anything, that is ideal

I love him sm

I love doing these lmao. It’s kinda cringe, but it’s self indulgent and I like exploring their characters like this

I’m probably gonna create an ask blog specifically for this sometime soon

#genshin impact #harbinger headcanons #Shen’s headcanons #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers #Pierro #capitano #Dottore #columbina #Arlecchino #pulcinella #Scaramouche #Sandrone #Signora #Pantalone #Tartaglia #genshin x reader

[contemplatingoutlander]

The former Republican David French does a good job of explaining what keeps MAGA folks continuing to support Trump. It's all about the "culture" of MAGA and the sense of "belonging," combined with years of propaganda that have painted anyone even slightly on the left as being "bad" and "out to get" conservatives and their families.

And if we don't understand that, we won't know how to combat it. Here are some excerpts:

I live in Tennessee outside Nashville, a very deep-red part of America. According to a New York Times tool that calculates the political composition of a community, only 15 percent of my neighbors are Democrats. I’ve been living here in the heart of MAGA country since Donald Trump came down the escalator. This is the world of my friends, my neighbors and many members of my family. That is perhaps why, when I’m asked what things are like now, eight years into the Trump era, I have a ready answer: Everything is normal until, suddenly, it’s not. And unless we can understand what’s normal and what’s not, we can’t truly understand why Trumpism endures. [...] It’s no coincidence that one of the most enduring cultural symbols of Trump’s 2020 campaign was the boat parade. To form battle lines behind Trump, the one man they believe can save America from total destruction, thousands of supporters in several states got in their MasterCrafts and had giant open-air water parties. Or take the Trump rally, the signature event of this political era. If you follow the rallies via Twitter or mainstream newscasts, you see the anger, but you miss the fun. When I was writing for The Dispatch, one of the best pieces we published was a report by Andrew Egger in 2020 about the “Front Row Joes,” the Trump superfans who follow Trump from rally to rally the way some people used to follow the Grateful Dead. Egger described the Trump rally perfectly: “For enthusiasts, Trump rallies aren’t just a way to see a favorite politician up close. They are major life events: festive opportunities to get together with like-minded folks and just go crazy about America and all the winning the Trump administration’s doing.”

[See more below the cut]

[...] Why do none of your arguments against Trump penetrate this mind-set? The Trumpists have an easy answer: You’re horrible, and no one should listen to horrible people. Why were Trumpists so vulnerable to insane stolen-election theories? Because they know that you’re horrible and that horrible people are capable of anything, including stealing an election. At the same time, their own joy and camaraderie insulates them against external critiques that focus on their anger and cruelty. Such charges ring hollow to Trump supporters, who can see firsthand the internal friendliness and good cheer that they experience when they get together with one another. They don’t feel angry — at least not most of the time. They are good, likable people who’ve just been provoked by a distant and alien “left” that many of them have never meaningfully encountered firsthand. Indeed, while countless gallons of ink have been spilled analyzing the MAGA movement’s rage, far too little has been spilled discussing its joy. Once you understand both dynamics, however, so much about the present moment makes clearer sense, including the dynamics of the Republican primary. Ron DeSantis, for example, channels all the rage of Trumpism and none of the joy. With relentless, grim determination he fights the left with every tool of government at his disposal. But can he lead stadiums full of people in an awkward dance to “Y.MC.A.” by the Village People? Will he be the subject of countless over-the-top memes and posters celebrating him as some kind of godlike, muscular superhero? [...] Trump’s fans, by contrast, don’t understand the effects of [the MAGA] fury because they mainly experience the joy. For them, the MAGA community is kind and welcoming. For them, supporting Trump is fun. Moreover, the MAGA movement is heavily clustered in the South, and Southerners see themselves as the nicest people in America. It feels false to them to be called “mean” or “cruel.” Cruel? No chance. In their minds, they’re the same people they’ve always been — it’s just that they finally understand how bad you are. And by “you,” again, they often mean the caricatures of people they’ve never met. In fact, they often don’t even know about the excesses of the Trump movement. Many of them will never know that their progressive neighbors have faced threats and intimidation. And even when they do see the movement at its worst, they can’t quite believe it. So Jan. 6 was a false flag. Or it was a “fedsurrection.” It couldn’t have really been a violent attempt to overthrow the elected government, because they know these people, or people like them, and they’re mostly good folks. It had to be a mistake, or an exaggeration, or a trick or a few bad apples. The real crime was the stolen election. It’s the combination of anger and joy that makes the MAGA enthusiasm so hard to break but also limits its breadth.  [...] The battle and the booze cruise both give MAGA devotees a sense of belonging. They see a country that’s changing around them and they are uncertain about their place in it. But they know they have a place at a Trump rally, surrounded by others — overwhelmingly white, many evangelical — who feel the same way they do. [...] During the Trump years, I’ve received countless email messages from distraught readers that echo a similar theme: My father (or mother or uncle or cousin) is lost to MAGA. They can seem normal, but they’re not, at least not any longer. It’s hard for me to know what to say in response, but one thing is clear: You can’t replace something with nothing. And until we fully understand what that “something” is — and that it includes not only passionate anger but also very real joy and a deep sense of belonging — then our efforts to persuade are doomed to fail.

#maga america #rage and joy #understanding trump's appeal to his base #donald trump #gop #david french #the new york times

[thesweetnessofspring]

i have a few Everlark Post-MJ head canons that I’d like to share!

Katniss and Peeta get to finally act like the normal kids/teenagers they never got to be? Small things like playing out in the rain, reading a bunch of books that were once banned by the Capitol, dancing to music in their living room, and getting into mundane hobbies not part of their typical persona (like I can see Katniss taking up some knitting or crocheting? maybe Peeta could take a hand at carpentry, building small things like birdhouses and chairs)

Once they’re more stable physically and mentally, they add work-out regimes in their daily routines. Peeta, being an athlete in canon, starts to lift weights again and maybe take a few runs around the district once in awhile? He comes back to 12 probably still a lot skinner compared to when he was training for the quell? But he gets all the muscle back in no time, much to Katniss’ appraisal 😉 speaking of Katniss, she’s naturally active in the woods with climbing trees and all that but I do believe she too takes a few runs once im awhile, sometimes with Peeta ☺️

Okay this one is my fave but they love to mess with Haymitch because now that their lives aren’t at risk, him getting pissed at them is just plain hilarious. I can imagine Peeta pulling small pranks on him (as a normal teenage boy does) like doodling on the sides of the newspaper before Haymitch gets to read it at breakfast. When he gets Katniss roped into the pranks tho, they truly become a menace. Drawing on Haymitch’s face while he naps and him not noticing till he strolls into town and someone points it out, they super glue his coffee mug to the table, purposely showing a lot of PDA while he eats because they know it disgusts him, filling his flask with odd (but consumable) liquids 🥲 though, Haymitch also gets his revenge sometimes like by timing the exact moment he knows they’re about to ~get busy~ so he walks in and casually makes conversation while they stare at him in irritation, or stealing Peeta’s freshly baked loaves from the counter when he leaves the kitchen for a bit 😭 also, making a lot of dirty jokes and innuendos to Katniss once he noticed she and Peeta are becoming a lot closer because he knows it pisses her off

Omg I’m so sorry for the long post but I have so many HCs for them! I hope you don’t mind me sending them once in awhile since idk where to really put them lmao

❤️, headcanon-anony

headcanon-anony, I'm honored you would think to send these to me! I love all of these! Especially about how Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch find little ways to tease and prank each other. Such a found family thing to do and a light way to cope with their trauma through laughter. And Katniss and Peeta taking time to be kids again?! Love it! I think later when they have kids, getting to experience the joys of childhood through them is also very healing and meaningful for them.

#headcanon-anony #everlark headcanons #post-war headcanons #d12 victors headcanons #d12 victors #everlark

[writing-whump]

Sick from fear

Seline takes a student home. Matthew isn't happy about it. Intimidation, agression and some emeto ensue.

“Don’t be shy now. It’s okay,” Seline said with a smile.

Caleb hesitated at the doorstep of the apartment, nodding meekly, before he stepped inside and immediately started to take off his shoes.

She was doing writing consultation for the seminar she was assisting with for students as always, but today was special, because she got to talk with the only wolf student one on one. A young wolf, just 18 years old. He seemed like a child to her no matter what the passport said. 

Wolves that studied were rare, since most of them couldn’t handle the training to tolerate humans. Even rarer were wolves who studied the softer sciences, for when they already did, they wanted something that would increase their status or their skills for pack matters and business. 

Caleb studied cultural anthropology though and she was beside herself with joy. Finally it happened! Their faculty of european ethnology, one of the many names their faculty could be called, was small and cozy and little known. Most people couldn’t imagine anything under the name. Sociology was more famous, the annoying step-sister of the department, but people didn’t understand it any better.

But theirs was like a little secret club just across the big gallery building and the butterfly museum and the big state library. Surrounded by art and thoughts, just like she liked it. 

Caleb was insecure in the lessons, a little shy and flinched at loud noises, but he was there, growing into himself.  

Normally, she held her consultations at the student space, which was a fancy name for a hall filled with tables for student needs. As the end of the day neared, it filled with project groups and chatting students. At the point when she couldn’t hear Caleb's soft answers anymore, she decided just to invite him over. She finally had a place in Vienna, compared to the 10 years she spent traveling back and forth. Finding a quiet place, where you could just chat with people was a challenge, cause everyone had the same idea, so everything was very full, very busy and too loud.  

Caleb held his bag self-consciously in his hands, looking at her for directions. 

Seline smiled and waved him in to sit down at the kitchen table. The apartment always looked representative these days, because of Isaiah’s constant and insistent cleaning, which usually prompted her and Matthew to help out as well. 

“So. Tell me again about the research question.”

Caleb sat down gingerly, gaze downcast, like he was scared looking around would be some kind of attack on her privacy. 

“I’m not entirely sure about the topic yet. The assignment says we should choose something mundane and familiar, something we have close connection to and that won’t be hard to do participative observations on…but there aren’t that many public places…I feel comfortable in?” Caleb only recently moved to the city so she understood the whole experience as a wolf and as a student was very new to him. 

“Is there a place you would be interested in? It’s always best to start with what makes you curious. It doesn’t have to be familiar as long as it’s exciting and you feel like you would like to find out more.” 

“Uhmm…I actually thought I might ask you…is it allowed to write about your own home?”

Seline threw her hair back, straightening on the chair. “Yes, of course. Ethnography is all about exploring the small, mundane, the seemingly daily and personal. But diving in deep. Autoethnography or something or someone close to you is definitely allowed. Many first years do their first interviews with their parents or friends. There is nothing wrong about it, you have to learn the format and work up your nerve. You just have to be transparent and take consideration of that in your analysis.”

Caleb looked at the table, his eyes flickering to her and back for several long seconds. Seline held still. People didn’t like silence, so they usually tried to fill it and expanded upon what they wanted to say. She liked that technique very much. 

“Would I be allowed to write about wolves as well?” Caleb asked finally, shoulders tense, his hands curled up in his lap. 

Seline smiled widely. “Of course.”

Caleb lifted his gaze to her, eyes wide. “A-are you sure? Isn’t that…I don’t know…”

Seline took a deep breath. This was an excellent question and she had waited years for someone to ask.

“Shadow wolves are beings just like humans. We share space. We share cities, so we all have a right to the city. We share our lives and our desires and needs that way and need to negotiate our collective space. It’s an entirely legitimate topic for an ethnographer to explore.

Admittedly, there had been very little research done on this field from the perspective of social sciences. Political sciences have really ridden the hype on this since the legislative finally settled on a solution everyone was moderately happy about. But also communication sciences researching social media representation and debates. Film and media studies and literature studies have whole lectures about wolf shadow authors and how they have always been here, their identities more or less hidden in their content. But if you disregard the biology and medicine papers and the ethical questions and controversy regarding them that had been going on for over 20 years - the scientific community has actually done very little direct research with wolves as active consensual participants.

As a wolf yourself, you have to reflect your identity, role and positioning in this field - obviously - but it gives you unique access to spaces that are closed or uncomfortable for most scientists. Especially since most scientists are still very human and wolf packs are very private, structured and distrustful social units with their own rules for correct behavior that are very hard to understand, if you didn’t grow up with them. No one has yet written the rules down.”

“There are guidelines from government institutions and schools,” Caleb countered.

“Yes, but they are for wolves, not from them. There are only unspoken rules. Humans have made space for wolves, but they made them adjust themselves to human norms and rules - partly this is necessary as human safety, integrity and dignity have to be respected. But no one ever thinks about what wolves do, feel and where they are coming from. Why is it hard for them to fit into human communities and groups, why their instincts go against what humans would normally consider right or pleasant.” 

“But would anyone be interested in that? Would it be relevant…for someone who doesn’t come into contact with wolves?”

“Even if people didn’t want to interact with wolves - which is unlikely as they are very frequent in cities now and why wouldn’t they want to interact, when they have to come across each other - consider all the humans involved directly with wolves. Like humans born into wolf families.”

“Or witches,” Caleb said quetly, watching her. 

“Or witches,” she agreed with a nod. “It isn’t natural for me as a witch why wolves do and feel what they do. I have human instincts and understanding and I’m socialized into my own culture. Behavior for and around wolves had to be taught to me.” 

Caleb nodded eagerly. Seline noted how his shoulders relaxed visibly as fascination replaced the discomfort from before. 

“There are so many wonderful topics you can explore around wolves. Safety and conflict mediation are so common they are cliche at this point.”

“So I can research whatever I want?”

“Yes. As long as you can find logical arguments and explain the relevance and connection to ethnography.”

“But you just said-”

“There is one,” she said with a grin. “There always is. You just have to learn to situate your personal interests in the wider context of your scientific field. You are an ethnographer-”

“I am?”

“-as long as you act and think of yourself as one. You are my colleague at the faculty now.” She had always loved it when their professors treated them like colleagues and partners in the seminars and discussions, although it was plain they had so much more experience and knowledge than students could gain in the 5 years it took to finish the master's degree. It was incredibly confidence-boosting and remade her own understanding of herself as a researcher. 

Caleb redded, but couldn’t quite suppress the hopeful smile as well. He seemed to have become taller during their conversation, just by uncurling. Satisfaction swelled in her chest. She wanted to stay as a professor at the university for moments like these. 

“Now, I would like to show you some exercises to help you formulate-”

The entrance door opened and slammed shut, interrupting her. 

“Seline? You home? Class ended early and I…” Matthew’s voice faded as he got closer, walking inside the kitchen. “What the hell is this?”

“Oh hey, Matt, I just invited my student over for a consultation. We should be finished in 15-”

Matthew’s bag fell down on the floor with a bang. It had been some time since she had seen that expression on his face. It was somewhere between an angry grimace, pain and a snarl that contorted his features.

Then a loud growl echoed inside the room.

Caleb was on his feet in an instant, backing away to the wall. “I’m s-sorry, I’ll leave, sir,” he said, trembling.

“Matthew, what are you doing?” Seline said in disbelief and irritation. She didn’t understand what caused such a reaction.

Matthew’s shadow rose up, black and swelling, like a giant nightmarish monster behind him.

Caleb whined, crouching against the wall. His own shadow stirred, but it was small and hesitant and completely scared. 

“This is my territory. How dare you-” Matthew could barely put a sentence together, his hands shaking as he towered over the younger wolf.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb repeated, shaking all over.

Seline jumped up from the chair, positioning herself between Matthew and Caleb. “What has gotten into you?” She said angrily. “You are scaring my guest.” 

“You brought a foreign wolf here?” Matthew said, turning to her. It was very different to have thar angry scowl accompanied by a risen shadow that reached the ceiling directed at her. She felt a shiver run up her spine and her hair standing up on the back of her neck. 

“Stop it,” she said quietly. You are scaring me. 

Matthew stared at her, eyes shadowed over, reaching for her arm…

Seline had no wards, no shields. All protections in the apartment were made against wolves she didn't know, she didn't like, didn't trust…and she had no way to sing a song or call on water inside the apartment, without preparation and time. 

If he hurt her now, she wouldn't be able to do anything. She stood frozen from fear, helplessness flooding her from head to toe. 

Caleb made a soft whiny noise behind her and that snapped her out of it.

Seline grabbed Caleb’s hand and without turning and retreated back, going for the door. Caleb barely managed to take his shoes before they were out of the apartment, both breathing hard. 

Seline’s heart was hammering in her chest. Once the door stood between them, the cold creeping presence of the shadow wasn’t notable anymore, but the cold dread remained. 

They were silent on the elevator, Seline still processing the shock of that feeling. She recognized it from when her younger brother made that move like he wanted to hit her for the first time during an argument. 16 years old boy who she cradled and played with from the day he was born, growing to be taller than her only that year, almost hitting her in the face. His fist stopped centimeters from her nose. She cried herself to sleep that night and started to look for her own place the next.

This felt so close to that horrible moment she felt tears in the corners of her eyes, hugging herself. 

The elevator jingled as it stopped. They both stepped out, Seline feeling weirdly detached from the situation as the fear still coursed through her.

Then Caleb suddenly made three quick steps to the side of the building, reaching the beginning of the decorative grass and promptly threw up all over it.

That snapped her back into action again. 

Caleb was shaking, hands braced on his knees, breathing fast. Seline walked to him, first hesitant, but when he groaned, she dared to put her hand on his back. He tensed for a moment before relaxing. He gave her a look from the side, opening his mouth to say something, when his body rocked and heaved again, spluttering vomit onto the grass.

Seline rubbed his back, hating the tremors running through him. Such a nice boy. Even as a wolf, she felt like he would never even think of hitting her. And now he was scared out of his mind by her…what was Matthew to her? A roommate? A friend? A pack member? They weren't a pack, were they? 

Can wolves attack their own pack members? She had never heard about it being witches at least - pack witches were always cherished, protected and untouchable. 

Was it because they weren't a pack or because they were, but not enough?  

“I'm so sorry, Caleb. You are going to be fine. Deep breaths. You are safe.”

Caleb spit on the ground with another groan, then tried to straighten up, swallowing visibly. He looked at her again, perspiration sticking his short blond hair to his forehead. 

“No, it's my fault. I was in foreign territory and I-”

“You were invited though. I invited you. I don't know what got into him.” Seline wasn't sure if it made it better or worse, that she lived with someone who couldn't be trusted like that.

“It's a classic response when you have a threatening foreign element on your turf. It's fine. He was worried about you, not me,” Caleb said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“I'm really sorry.”

“No. Humans don't get how wolves work, remember?” He gave her a shaky smile that didn't last more than half a second. “Trust me, Miss Silverstein.” 

She rubbed his arm up and down. The texture of his white cardigan was so thin she could feel the shirt underneath. “Don't be so formal with me and let me apologize.”

Caleb shook his head. “I'll accept your apology if it makes you feel better, but really - no harm done. My shadow is so ridiculously small and my reaction is exaggerated. I'm sorry you had to see that.” A bit of color returned to his too-white cheeks as he flushed.

“It's okay. Are you feeling better now? We can go sit somewhere and wait until you are ready.”

He waved her away. “I'm all good. Thank you again for your help.”

Seline watched him go, not knowing how to explain how much worse everything seemed to her now. 

@bellysoupset

#emeto #sickfic #whump #whump writing #hurt/comfort #werewolf wip #my writing #I'm just saying being a wolf isn't easy #and those arrangements with the unclear pack is not ideal #Caleb #Seline

[taleasnewastime]

6. Good at making bad decisions

Summary: You’re just trying to make Taehyung jealous and it looks like it’s worked.

Word count: 993

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Explicit sexual content; sex in a public place, kind of rough, it’s more the build up than anything, also not proof read.

Your eyes aren’t focused on the guy you’re grinding against. Your mind not concentrating on the hands wrapped around your hips. You don’t care about him, you care about the guy currently glaring at you from the bar. You smirk as you twist, move around the man so you’re facing each other but you still have a clear view of the guy at the bar.

You’re enjoying this far too much. Alcohol only heightening the experience. You shouldn’t be doing it, Taehyung is only ever a hook-up. He’s made it clear that you are nothing more than casual, he does and says things that upset you. Every time you sleep with him you say it’s the last time and yet every time you end up going back.

The guys hands dip from your hips, lower. His face pulling in so you can feel the breath on your neck, his lips not touching you but you know he wants to. It gives you a clearer view of Tae. Lets you see the way he knocks his drink back, eyes dark as he takes one last look at you before standing and leaving the bar.

You don’t read into the way your heart dips. Don’t think about how your feelings change to the situation you’re in, how it no longer feels any fun.

“I’m heading to the loo,” you say before extracting yourself from the mans arms.

You don’t look back as you elbow yourself through the crowd. Eyes firmly on where Taehyung disappeared, you forget to pick up your coat as you head out the exit.

You become stupid in your desire for him.

The night is cold. Standing on the pavement you wrap your arms around yourself as you look left and right. There’s no sign of Taehyung. Still, you take an educated guess and start heading in the direction of his house.

You don’t make it far. A hand grabs your shoulder making you go tense and then a voice makes you go slack. “Come to apologise?”

You look over your shoulder, face the picture of innocence. “What do I need to apologise for?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. You’re definitely in a defiant mood tonight, normally you would do anything this man says. But it’s his fault. He said this was just sex, he said you were just friends, he told you not to get too attached. So he has no right to expect you to play along like the good little girl you are. Despite yourself, you find you still want him, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have it on your own terms.

“So why did you follow me out here?”

You turn around to face him rather than look over your shoulder at him, humming as you go. “I was bored.”

“You didn’t look bored.”

You shrug and try and hide your smirk. Taehyung only seems to grow more annoyed, which in turn fuels your joy.

Whether he can read you like a book or you’re not hiding your joy as well as you think you are, you’re not sure. But he takes your wrist in his hand, not harsh but firm, not in way that hurts you but in a way that makes you follow him and not question it.

He leads you into a dark ally way, pulls you until you’re a couple of meters deep. Hidden by shadows, you can see the world but they can’t see you. He pushes your back against the wall and then pushes his body into yours, trapping you. Still, you beam up at him, enjoying yourself.

“You piss me off,” he growls at you.

“That’s the idea,” you mumble just before he presses his lips against yours.

The pattern continues. Taehyung almost attacks your lips with his, lightly biting and pulling your bottom lip. His hands don’t stop moving on your hips. Going from your hips to your thighs to your bum, pulling you closer to him before pushing you away and dragging his own body into you.

You groan into his mouth when you feel his hands start to pull your skirt up. Fuck are you glad you wore this outfit tonight.

Taehyung’s breathless when he pulls away from you and you’re still all smiles. You run your hands up his chest as he reaches into his back pocket. Run your hands along his jaw and through into his hair. You’re aware of him pulling down his zipper, pulling his cock out and rolling his condom on, but you’re almost too focused on his beauty to look down at him. Concentration etches his features, creates lines on his forehead and around his eyes. You relish moments like this. Because if you can’t have all of him, you still want to have as much of him as you can. These emotions and expressions are what you keep locked away.

“You ready?” He looks up at you and seems a little take aback by the fact you’re already looking at him.

You try to wipe the probably too soft expression off your face. This is supposed to be quick, hard and emotionless sex. You can do that.

You nod your head, open your mouth to say yes but only a moan comes out as Taehyungs fingers push your pants to the side and run through your folds. He stops at your entrance, adds a bit of pressure but doesn’t quite dip in how you’d like.

“Humm,” he smirks, though you hardly see if through your squinted eyes. “Feels like you’re ready.”

He moves closer, his breath deep and slow. One hand on your hip to keep you where you are as the other guides his tip past your pants to your entrance. He stops again, looks at you just before pushing in.

“You’re going to have to be quiet,” he warns before pressing in hard but so pleasurably. The pace he sets is brutal, it’s hard to remain quiet.

#taehyung smut #taehyung drabble #taehyung fic #v smut #taehyung x reader #advent calendar drabble

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

Let’s talk about #swedengate

Hi.

I’m here to give my two cents about the current meme going around about Swedish families not feeding their guests, particularly children who come over to play with their kids.

My initial reaction to this meme was “Wow, out of all the things to roast Sweden for, the Americans picked the thing that’s untrue? Guess they’re just happy that the world isn’t making fun of them for a change.” But then I gave it some thought, and actual Swedes, that I actually know and can confirm are Swedish, said that the memes are true, while others said they were bullshit, including my own initial reaction. So then I thought back to my childhood, and realized that hey, there’s some nuance here. But it’s more complicated than “Swedes are evil and racist and classist and don’t give people food because they hate intimacy and love and joy” and “Swedes are wonderful and perfect and super generous and actually Americans stfu you don’t even take your shoes off inside.”

This is about Culture TM.

So what are my credentials? Well, I don’t have any. I took some basic sociology and ethnicity and culture classes and now I pretend I know things. However, I have something more important than that: 1) I’ve lived in Sweden for two thirds of my life 2) I’m a zillennial so my experiences are probably still relevant and 3) I’m an immigrant from a working class family. My perception of Swedish customs is not colored by patriotism, and I can compare them to the culture of my birth country.

Feel free to ask for clarifications and details and such, but be civil. Svenskar är välkomna att dela med sig av sina erfarenheter, men bara om du är normal, okej?

So here are my, I think fairly unbiased but informed, thoughts.

First of all: yes, Swedish families will feed the kids who come over. However:

Sometimes they won’t :)

A common experience for me was that the parents would ask if I would join, then ask for dietary restrictions and potentially whether what they were making was okay. Sometimes they’d adjust the food accordingly. Back when I was still Muslim, I remember the parents of my then-bestie got visibly upset when I said I’d be going home instead of eating with them, because they’d made chicken instead of pork for my sake. Now, I was always shy and socially anxious, but this was partly informed by the Swedish culture surrounding food and particularly family dinners. I’ll get there, though.

While many of my experiences coming over to friends’ houses included having dinner with the family, I do remember many a time where I've had to wait alone in their room for my friend to be done eating with their family. This is, to an outsider (especially one with different cultural upbringings) very strange and seems maybe draconian in some way. I want to figure out why that is, because to me, it’s awkward but pretty normal.

It should be noted that I was never forced to sit alone and starve, nor that parents will just lock children who aren’t their own in a room to contain them while they gorge themselves on meatballs and surströmming, but rather that this was the result of many different factors.

From what I’ve seen, it could be no-food is more common among city folks than country bumpkins. I grew up in smaller towns, because that’s where immigrants get punted due to the expensive living in the cities, and people there were pretty willing to feed you.

I could also argue that the household’s class has an influence on whether you get fed or not. I remember that I never once shared a meal with my one Swedish friend who was lower-class (she lived in an apartment like the immigrant kids in the town, versus all the other Swedes who had their own houses in the suburbs). I also never once ate at very wealthy kids’ houses, either. So lower class people won’t feed you because they can’t afford it, while upper class people won’t feed you because they’re assholes. This leaves that middle-class families tend to be the most likely ones to feed you, which is my own experience. This is anecdotal and heavily misremembered evidence, but still interesting to think about.

To me, the two things that determine whether you get fed are the family’s own attitude and how well you know them. A lot of families will just assume you’re staying to eat, and won’t even ask or have the kids ask you, because they’re just like that. They’re peppy, they’re friendly, they’re fun. Sometimes they’ll ask about dietary restrictions and might even make you something separate if it turns out you can’t eat what they have.

But the second factor is the main one I want to talk about. You see, Swedes are socially awkward. Or at least, they’re deeply uncomfortable with strangers. They avoid eye contact on public transport, they don’t strike up conversations with random people, and they stand 10 feet away from each other on the bus stop. So when people from other cultures say sharing food is a sort of social bonding exercise, a type of intimacy, is it really a surprise that Swedes are hesitant to participate?

Those families that will feed you? More often than not, the parents will ask you, or ask their children to ask you, whether you’ll stay for food. And due to how Sweden tells you to be polite and unassuming, it’s generally seen as more polite to decline. Some parents will try to convince you, but a some won’t. So if you’re not going home to eat and want to resume playtime later, you’re waiting.

And you, raised in a different culture, might think, “Wow, this is messed up! How do you put that responsibility on children? Just feed them!” But the question isn’t really about that. A Swedish parent isn’t thinking “Am I morally obligated, as an adult, to feed every child that shows up on my doorstep?” They’re thinking: “What if they can’t eat this? What if they don’t like it? I’m not gonna assume they’ll want to eat what I made, that’s rude! What if I make them uncomfortable by making them eat? What if they’re too shy to refuse and eat something they shouldn’t? What if they ate already and simply don’t want to? What if they want to eat with their family at home instead of with us?” Assuming that the child 1) can eat what you made 2) wants to eat what you made 3) wants to share this meal with you, would be rude. It’s easier to ask, and if they say no, you respect that decision. You treat that child as an individual making their own decisions, not as a nebulous little creature you must feed simply because you’re the one making the food.

I’m not arguing pro or con, I’m explaining the mindset.

There’s also another, final layer to this smörgåstårta How do we define a meal? How do we share food, what’s for everyone and what’s for the family only?

You see, Swedish families have a focus on family dinner. Kids get down and eat together with their parents. It’s the norm. It’s the time to share what’s happened and gossip about people they know. Based on the reactions I’ve seen, this isn’t the case in other places. Dinner isn’t something reserved for the family, but something to be shared with others. That’s fine. But it’s different. So when strangers come by, it’s awkward for the average Swede. So they ask, “Are you eating here? Are you sharing this with us?” And you, a small Swedish child, just as aware of the intimacy of the moment because you do this very thing at home, do the quick assessment of whether it’s rude to intrude, whether you’re close enough to this family to say yes, whether you’re comfortable sharing this with them instead of with your own family at home, and come to a conclusion, “No, thank you.” But you’re not gonna leave just because they’re eating, that would be weird! And you want to keep playing later. So you wait.

EDIT: I forgot another small factor that others have pointed out, and it’s that whether you join people for dinner also depends on how long you’re staying. Like if you’re sleeping over at a friend’s house, then it’s obvious you’ll get fed. One family that I was very close with as a kid even let me join in on movie nights, sitting on the couch with blankets and eating snacks together. It was very good and chill, but that’s a level up over just joining them for dinner. High level play, not recommended for beginners.

You know what’s the most common way that Swedish family will feed kids that aren’t their own? They’ll make the food and then set it on the kitchen counter and shout “Food’s ready!” And then you and your friend go downstairs, put food on your plates, and haul it back to their room. That’s the most consistent way you get fed as a kid in a Swedish house. When the expectation isn’t “join us for dinner,” it’s a lot more casual and, seemingly, inviting. It also bypasses the need to ask whether the kid will be joining or not: they can simply take the food if they want to or not if they don’t. But it doesn’t have the same vibe to a lot of Americans, because it doesn’t happen around a big jolly table. But the big jolly table is for family only. Are you close enough to this family yet? Are the parents cheery enough to make it inviting? Can you eat what they’re offering? Do you want to? Do you have a dinner waiting at home in just an hour and it’s food you really like versus the food you don’t like here?

It’s about politeness, really. It’s polite of the parent to ask, and it’s polite of the child to decline. That might be fucked up to an outsider, and many an essay can be written about this, I’m sure, but in the end, it’s not really malicious. It’s just culture and socialization.

In Russia, it’s expected to bring something when you visit someone. If you’re gonna eat there, you bring something to eat as well. Swedes just fucking hate that. Well not really, but they don’t get it, and it makes them uncomfortable. I know because I’ve delivered many a weird gift my mom sent me with to many a baffled and embarrassed Swedish parent who didn’t know how to react. It’s just not done that way here. So it’s not always about being a cheapskate or a snob, nor is it about racism or classism. (For the record, any Swedish family who’s racist enough not to offer a kid food just because they’re a PoC is already racist enough to not let that kid into their house in the first place, which I feel is pretty obvious but idk people are dumb I guess.)

There’s a lot of layers to this. And it comes down to not being evil or racist or hating fun and joy and the spiritual purity of food sharing or whatever the fuck. Sure, there are assholes who tell you to leave before dinner or won’t feed you ever, but they’re the exception, not the rule. It’s mostly about how fucking awkward Swedes are and how even adults can’t usually handle it in a normal way.

That’s not to say that Sweden and Swedes aren’t racist, they very much are. Think of Sweden less as a socialist utopia and more of a wannabe America. It’s a capitalist state slowly being turned further and further right by the neo-Nazis in its government. It has a deeply troubled history with eugenics, genocide, and general racism, and is currently a very segregated society both in terms of class and ethnicity. It pretends to be all about personal freedoms and progress while anyone darker than a vanilla wafer is, generally, fucked. It’s like a white gay’s utopia, but only the type of white gay who’s the target audience of all those rainbow profile pics the corporations switch to in June.

What I’m trying to say is that the food thing has a lot of different layers, not all of which relate to and include the darker parts of Sweden’s past and existence.

If you do want to make fun of something food-related in Sweden that’s actually mildly racist and problematic, go ahead and laugh about how the most popular foods in Sweden that many Swedes consider to be “Swedish food staples” are actually imported and refined by immigrants. That includes tacos, kebab, pizza, etc. Traditional Swedish food is, in general, pretty garbage. Just some of the whitest, saltiest meat you can put on the world’s hardest piece of flat stone some might call bread. And there’s inexplicable jam everywhere. Will defend IKEA’s meatballs with my life though.

So um anyway. That’s that on that, I guess! And again, none of this is scientific or backed up by anything. These are just my thoughts and experiences. Hope it helps y’all decide whether this meme is funny or not <3

#sweden #swedengate

[daebraeksan]

Getting triggered in a (pre)sexual situation with Nagi & he is patient and kind about it

contents 

NSFW elements, vague age, could be seen as college student or adult!Nagi, Reader with DID/PSTD (anxiety/depression/mental illness) who has gone to/is currently in therapy [as always anyone can read this, but i provide this extra info for context :) /], reader with past history of sexual trauma, exploring feelings about sexual, physical, and romantic aspects of relationship, height difference (short reader), reader is triggered during kissing and starts crying; some mental health event happens during kissing i don't know, nagi is very patient and respectful; abandonment issues, reader is certain nagi is going to break up with them (nagi will not)

tags 

Everyone is an adult in an unspecified location AU, nagi has his own apartment AU, the apartment is really the only important physical location that matters so like, i don’t really care lol, go wild, established relationship, reader has never dated before, reader little to no romantic/dating experience, implied past sexual trauma,

word count

3045

!#@!@#!@#!@#!@#!@#

Poor Nagi didn’t get any Valentine's chocolates when he was in school. Times when he felt sexual frustration were so few and far between, and when he did, poor Nagi was often too lazy to do anything about it. There’s nothing sad about being a late bloomer; everyone is different. Having fun in a specific way now versus later are incomparable or equal, but not better or worse than each other. 

For various, and some of those were surprisingly similar, reasons, your relationship with Nagi started slowly. Both of you were uncertain whether the other liked you. Both of you were hesitant to admit to yourselves you liked the other. For both of you, it was too much of a hassle at first. Feelings are complicated and you both didn’t want to get into anything that was going to harm or disturb you. It was Nagi who, by inadvertent accident, finally steeled your resolve, and spurred you to make your move, which started the “romantic” (?) aspect of your relationship.  

Hardly anything in your life is “easy” but for all the struggle you go through to live a “normal” life that other people take for granted, Nagi is an excellent partner to go through it all. Your head spins as you are treated with gentleness, humor, love, and respect. Your paranoid brain questions every act of kindness, moreso now that a “romantic” element throws your body in a tailspin. It’s new territory you don’t know. Your friendship with Nagi brought you so much joy, and those aspects haven’t been removed. You are always grateful to have a person who provides a safe space for you in your life. You cherish these people, few and far between, who you hold tightly to your heart, a dragon guarding less than 10 gems which feels like piles and piles of countless gold coins. 

All the work in your life hasn’t been for nothing. You are aware of how distant your insecurities feel sometimes. Their presence remains, memory cells floating in a busy abyss. You're grateful for your coping strategies that saved you. You are grateful for your new experiences and new strategies that can allow you to live the life you want to live going forward. You aren’t quite stuffing your insecurities to the bottom of your brain, the tartarus of your memory, but only because you don’t want any part of you to feel abandoned, lost, or hated. 

The thought of roadblocks and stumbling stones in the romantic (?) aspect of your relationship causes you worry sometimes, and you accept the newness and confusion with as much grace and compassion as you can.

The physical and sexual aspect of your relationship is going to drive you insane. It already is, and it will continue to do so.

Physical touch is already a stressful thing for you. Always. With anyone. You did not have positive physical touch growing up. You went through your childhood and adolescence touch starved, and have gone through your adulthood thus far incredibly touch starved, as well. You know what you want, you don’t know what you want, you know other people seem to be getting what they want (and what you want), and you don’t know how. Whatever they do won’t work for you anyway. You’ve tried and failed, with results ranging from unfortunate to disastrous. You can’t handle any more worst case scenarios. (You can, and will if they ever emerge. But you will not put yourself in those situations on purpose, and you will always leave a dangerous situation because you are capable of protecting yourself.) 

“Nagi is permissive.” This is one way to describe an aspect of his personality. That word stresses you out. You are so scared of hurting people (the way you were hurt.) You have long isolated yourself because you didn’t think you could get your needs met and keep people safe at the same time. (You were very hard on yourself and when you let people be responsible for their actions instead of taking the blame, you can learn that you were trustworthy all alone, and people, your loved ones, already trust you!)

“Nagi is too lazy to care either way.”  This is another way to describe Nagi in many situations. This also causes you pause, worry, and sends you in a tail spin sometimes. While your communication in other aspects of your life has improved drastically through your dedication and hard work, communication about physical touch causes its own problems because of the subject matter. Mainly, you can’t ask for what you want. You’re too protective of yourself (well, you’re alive, so it worked) and you don’t want to throw yourself in situations where you could be rejected and disappointed if it’s going to cause you so many problems.

Yet, you want emotional and physical intimacy, so you have to accept the fact that you want opposing things at times, sometimes at the same time. And it’s very frustrating and confusing. And, you’re not going to lie, in your worst moments, your insecurities about being too much, and too much trouble, emerge regarding this aspect of your relationship with Nagi. You only have one option, which is to work through it. You’re not giving up, and you’re not giving up on your relationship with Nagi. You're not giving him up for anything. (Unless he wants, but he doesn’t, so you don’t have to go through that qualifier. But you’re you, so you still splatter your disclaimers on anything and everything, because you don’t want to hurt people like how you've been hurt.) 

All of this is to say, with help from your loved ones, you were able to figure out that Nagi is okay with you cuddling with him, and he was okay with that before you started your romantic endeavors with him, too. You can’t hold his hand when he’s gaming, but sometimes he’ll still let you lean up against him. 

All your romantic firsts with Nagi are special to you, and all your first time experiences in general with him (or to be fair, anyone) are special. First time going to the amusement park together, watching a movie, cooking together (he is mostly moral support, but you still count it <3), first “date.” You cherish your first kiss. Your first and every subsequent makeout session excites you. You have days where it’s all you think about. Your sex drive is far higher than Nagi’s, but he’ll play with your pussy almost whenever you ask. Sometimes his full attention is on you, gaze hot and excited, enraptured with your pants and sounds, and sometimes he’ll play with you while he’s watching his shows or streams, something casual enough to where he’ll throw in an occasional deadpan observation of you that flushes you with the kind of humiliation and desperation that is so exciting to feel (the kind you only feel safe enough to feel with Nagi.) You can’t pick a favorite. His attention and praise fills you with white hot pleasure and your brain feels overflown in the present moment with him. The feeling of being carried away safely, because it’s Nagi, allowing you to be solidly grounded in the moment, because you don’t want to be anywhere else except overwhelmed by Nagi. 

Excited at the thought of experiencing these feelings again, you close the door to his bedroom and stand on your tiptoes and you still can’t reach his face. You cling to his shirt, pulling to coax him down to where you can reach. He towers over you, a hand over your head. You stare into his beautiful eyes and let out a tentative whine. 

“No patience at all.” Nagi’s lower, rough voice sends a jolt through you, and then he’s kissing you. Finally. 

There’s no pressure for Nagi to be creative when he touches you. For as bad as you think you are at communicating, you give him just enough to fill in the blanks that your body language leaves. Your body and voice are so expressive, and he doesn’t know how he knows what you want, but he does. You also seem pretty happy with anything he does. It makes him feel so powerful to make you so happy without even trying (that hard). Especially as time goes on and you get to know each other’s likes and tastes more and more, he likes the way you make him feel like in these moments, he is your whole world. He is all you need. Your enraptured expression, completely taken by him, the way your attention can’t be dragged to anything else makes him feel seen, and he likes the feeling. He wants you to see him.

He knows how to make you happy. When he doesn’t feel like putting in effort, but still wants to spend time with you, he knows how to make you feel good. He knows how to get results. 

But the way you motivate him surprises him every time. He knows you like it sometimes, when he pretends he’s more focused on his streams than you. You like it, so he lets you believe he is more focused on his streams than he really is. But making you feel good is like no game he’s ever played. It’s a fun game, an exciting game, riveting, all-consuming, to try and read you, try and figure out what it is you want him to do, what your body language and whines are leading him to do. You’re so easy to read, it feels like you were made for him. When you whine louder and louder, he wants you to feel like he was made for you, too.

He has to let you catch your breath eventually. He uses this time to feel proud of himself, smug at his handiwork, as he looks down at your dazed expression. You look like you miss him already. Your shy, worried expression you get as you feel better and better with the sinful way you move against his body, begging for more.

He feels protective of you and never wants to let you go. He never wants you to feel hurt again and he wants to be the one to make sure of that. He wants to be there to support you through everything and he wants you by his side always, too. 

He crowds you to the bed and you scramble up, and he crawls after you, and looms over you, the only image you want to see. 

He descends, body heavy on yours, kisses you more. You never would have thought you could like the taste of someone’s mouth like you do Nagi’s. You can’t get enough of the way his tongue feels, the strength of his hands when he grips you. You’re so loud, which Nagi loves, and is fun for you, too, but the moments when you’re about to hear his noises, grunts and gasps and exhales, makes your tummy swoop, and you cling to him tighter. You tangle your fingers in his beautiful hair. It calms you to touch it. You like holding his head like that while he kisses your neck. You hate that he has to stop kissing your lips in order to kiss your neck because you love both so much.

Nagi is patient and attentive. He can’t get bored when he sees and hears how much you are enjoying it. 

The silence has dragged on a bit too long, much longer than you need to catch your breath, and he knows you’re impatient. You act like you don’t care about breathing anymore when you kiss him, which makes him feel like king of the world, of course, but also, he wants you to breathe. 

He pulls away to assess the situation. Your fingers are still in his hair, which he loves, but your body is heavy, a lot less pliable than normal, and your gaze is frozen somewhere else, expression not dazed and needy like he likes seeing you. You look like something else. Lost in thought or somewhere else in general. 

“Baby.”

You twitch your fingers in his hair, but don’t look at him or say anything. 

“Angel?”

You remove your hand from his hair and squirm under him. He rolls off you onto his side and watches you.

“Are you okay?”

You curl away from him slightly, so he adjusts his body too, giving you some more space. 

He’s really worried, but he doesn’t want to worry you more, if something really is wrong. He knows and trusts you will tell him eventually, even if you can’t right now. 

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too,” you say quickly.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

You look conflicted. 

“I don’t have to. I just want you to know I love you. What do you need right now?”

You’re frozen. You don’t even feel like you can bury your head in the pillow like you want to. Well, actually, what you really want to do is bury your head in Nagi’s chest, but you definitely don’t think or feel like you can do that.

“Do you want me to go? Do you want me to take you home?”

“No,” you choke out. “I want to stay.”

“Okay,” Nagi says. “If there’s something you want me to do, when you can, can you tell me?”

Horrified, you feel tears welling in your eyes.

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“Okay,” Nagi says. “I want to help you, and can if you want me to, but I don’t have to do anything, either, if you don’t want.”

As focused as you were when you were kissing him and into it, you are now equally and opposingly scattered. Of the millions thoughts and anxieties and worries freefalling in your head, what a lot of them boil down to are: a) you are horrible; and b) he’s not going to like you anymore.

“I’m here for you,” he says. “It’s okay if you want to cry, if you feel like it.”

The sobs escape your mouth without you feeling like you let them. 

He hands you tissues and stays with you quietly. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, which doesn’t feel good to say. It feels like you are betraying yourself. But there was no way you were going to win the fight to overcome the urge to say it. Not right now. 

“I don’t want you to say that,” Nagi says. “About crying to me ever again.”

“Sorry,” you say, because at this point you’ve given up, and have fully accepted that Nagi will probably most definitely never want to see you ever again.

“You can say sorry, and I’ll tell you it’s okay, but I just want you to know. I want it on record that I don’t want an apology for you sharing your emotions with me. Thank you for trusting me with them. I am honored.”

You cry some more, hiccupping and loud. 

Once you have a tiny pile of tissues, which you push off the bed into the bin Nagi got up and retrieved for you, you feel satisfyingly empty, like how one does, after having a good cry.

“I love you,” Nagi says promptly.

“I love you, too,” you rasp out. 

He gazes at you calmly.

You and him are opposites in some ways. One important way is he is never in a rush and you are always in a rush. So even though you know he would never rush you into anything, whether it’s talking or sex or leaving the house for some event or activity, your own traitorous brain yells at you, guilts you, warns you that he’s going ot leave no matter what anyway, so what are you even doing?

“Can I stay?” you ask in a small voice. 

He blinks at you. “...what?”

“Can I still stay here? Even though we’re not.” You gulp around nothing. Your throat convulses. “Or I can go,” you say quickly because you don’t want to cause trouble or be shameless or assume or any of the horrible things that you could do wrong.

“You should always do whatever you want,” he says. “But if you’re asking me, I’d like if you stayed.”

“Okay,” you whisper, searching your chest for the relief you think you should be feeling. A win! Right? You don’t have to do something you’re scared of, and you get what you really wanted in the first place. All you ever want is Nagi. 

“Can I still.” You wish words weren’t so hard. For all that everyone makes fun of you for constantly talking, why can’t you when it really matters? You search for the extroverted part of you, and you feel tumbleweeds where a peppy, bubbly personality should be. 

Great. Abandoned. As per usual. 

Nagi doesn’t rush you. He never rushes you. Logically, you know this, from past experience, and he continues in this moment. He’s so still. The opposite of your racing thoughts. The opposite of the fight or flight response pumping your body up to prepare for maximum danger and threat levels. He’s so still as he watches you, with his ever lidded eyes, eyes you usually feel so secure staring into, and would for hours on end, if you could. 

You know these eyes are open to you. They demand nothing. You try to remember that he would never implore you for anything, and the only person rushing you is you.

“I want to stay,” you say. 

“I want you to stay,” he says.

“I want.” Why is it so horrifying to ask for things? To ask for anything. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes, please,” Nagi says.

This time, relief crashes through your system, louder this time, bursting through a window, the sound of glass shattering cascading through your veins. 

He opens himself up to you, like he always does, and you slot yourself against his body, like you’ve been wanting this whole time. You try to calm yourself down. You try to stop trying. You try to let Nagi take care of you, like he is so good at doing. 

He kisses the top of your head, and he waits with you until you feel better. And you do, eventually. You always do.

#fluff #angst #fluff and angst #fluff fanfiction #bluelock fluff #bluelock angst #blue lock fluff #blue lock angst #nagi fluff #nagi angst #nagi seishiro fluff #nagi seishiro angst #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro fanfiction #nagi seishiro fic #nagi #nagi comfort #nagi comfort fic #nagi comfort fanfiction #nagi seishiro comfort #nagi seishiro comfort fic #nagi seishiro comfort fanfiction #comfort fic #comfort fanfiction #nagi x reader #nagi s #nagi seishiro x reader

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Breakable Heaven | Chapter Four: BLUE

18+

Summary: the shape of his body, the colour they paint her brother's bedroom wall, the colour of the car he picks her up in, and the colour of the sky when she tries to sneak back in the next morning... it's all blue.

Warnings: phone sex, mutual masturbation, teasing, mentions of overstimulation and handcuffs, swearing. Mentions of spencers moms schizophrenia and his autism, hints at how Andy lost her own mother, sneaking out, heartfelt conversations

Word Count: 7.7k

Masterlist

Even when he was in a hotel with Derek while on a case, Spencer still found a way to call her to say goodnight. 

It was a sweet little tradition that made her heart scream with joy. He was so unbelievably sweet, it was a shock that no one in his hometown liked him like this… how was he not drowning in women at Cal-Tech?? 

She went to bed, every night since meeting him, thinking about all the possible conversations they could have, imagining how he’d ask her out on more dates and how much fun they could have until she fell asleep. If she was lucky, he was in her dreams taking her on little dates or rocking her world… she liked those dreams the most. 

He was her first thought in the mornings, too. 

She saw him in every suit in every store window, she noticed things he’d like, she picked up on little stories happening in the world that he’d like to hear about later during their calls. Her life felt a lot more interesting when she was able to share it with someone so intimately. She’s never shared this much with someone, it’s normally terrifying to be so open, but she loves talking to him. 

She’s concerned that she loves him… but she shakes that thought away whenever it shows up. She’s been thinking about him so much that any and all parts of him that she “loves” are made up from her mind and she shouldn’t rely on that. If she feels the same in a few months, then maybe it’s real… but she’s felt like this way too often about too many people to trust it. 

She’s had crushes that felt this intense, but mostly on fake men… like Xander on Buffy, Paul Rudd in Clueless and her absolute favourite, Shawn on Boy Meets World. That boy was the yummiest, but thinking back to it, she always appreciated Cory’s sweetness above all else, she can see a lot of Spencer in Cory. She felt like his Topanga. 

There’s no rules for this thing between them. It’s not like they’re just friends with benefits, it’s not like actually dating him would be the worst thing in the world… she just didn’t want the complications a label put on things. 

Even without rules, he could still break her heart. 

When her phone rings, she answers with a smile, “Hey there.” 

“Hi,” his voice groggy and barely there. It was her favourite thing to hear. 

“Did you have a long day?” 

“No, we’ll, yeah but I also fell asleep, but I had an alarm set so I wouldn’t forget to say goodnight to you…” 

She swoons, “seriously?”

“Yep.” He says with a hard P. 

“You can go back to sleep, cutie, it’s okay.” 

“Nooo,” he whines. “Tell me about your day? How’s Jas? Did your last exam go okay?” 

She gives in with a sigh. She leans back against her pillow and gets comfortable under the covers, “if I start telling you and you fall asleep, I’m not going to be mad.” 

“I won’t fall asleep again, I promise.” 

“Okay then,” she gives in with a sweet smile. “My exam went well, I think? I never know with biology. Um, and Jas is good… I haven’t seen her since yesterday. She found a boyfriend for the summer.” 

“She’s given up on the experiment?” Spencer fakes a gasp, making Andy laugh. 

“Yeah, but it’s a good thing. She had enough data on sex anyway, it’s about damn time she started getting some love in there too.” 

“Equal parts of sex and love do make a great relationship,” he agrees. “Am I ever going to get to meet her?” 

“Probably” she shrugs, “she’s getting an apartment downtown, near Joe’s actually. So, I can tell my dad I’m at her place and go to yours instead…” 

“Naughty.” 

She can hear his smile. “What? Don’t tell me you aren’t also trying to figure out how to get me back over there?”

“It’ll happen when it happens,” he doesn’t seem too rushed by it. “Speaking of which, did you still want me to come and help you paint this weekend?” 

“Yes, please,” she’s extra sweet. “Dad and Derek are going to build the crib and all the other baby stuff. Which also means Penelope and JJ will probably stop in to see them, so it won’t be too weird to have you there too.” 

“I'm excited to finally see the Hotchner house,” he teases. “I’ve heard it’s basically a mansion.” 

“It’s pretty big… I mean, we have a gate with a code and a rose garden with yard people, so yeah, it's basically a mansion.” 

It makes him laugh, “And maybe now you can show me how you sneak out of your window…” 

“I could,” she feels her cheeks start to burn. “You have a car, right?” 

“It’s old. And loud.”

“Shit,” she bites her lip to think. “What if you parked at the end of the street and I met you down there?” 

“Do you not need help getting down from the window?” He’s overly concerned. “Cause I already had a plan to just leave the car at the new build in your neighbourhood and walk over… I might have to climb the gate or jump the fence, but I was going to help you down.” 

“My hair isn’t long enough to play rapunzel,” she teases him. 

“Am I not a Romeo?” 

“Older than me, check, my dad doesn’t particularly like you, check… you just better not stab yourself,” she tries to tease him but she just hears his bedsheets ruffle as he sits up. 

“He doesn’t like me?” 

“No, I mean, yes! Yes, he likes you, I just meant he wouldn’t like you if I showed interest in you, like marriage at 13 interest. He said he really likes you, you’re an asset to the team…”

“But?” 

“But you can’t shoot for shit…” 

“Great,” he smacks himself in the forehead, causing the slap to ring through the phone. “That’s just fantastic. I didn’t want you to know that! I have my qualification in a month. A month, okay!” 

“Spence,” she softens her voice. “I’m not judging you. You’re a new agent, and you’re in a team that doesn’t require you to carry. It’s perfectly fine and normal to not be qualified yet.” 

“Just because you know what to say to me doesn’t mean it’s true,” he mumbles. 

“What was that?” 

“It’s just,” he lets out an exasperated sigh and flops back down against his pillow. “You’re studying the human brain, you could be a psychologist if you wanted to… and you have the Hotchner gene of just knowing everything like you can read minds. But, just because you have a reason for it, it doesn’t stop my mind from being anxious.” 

“I know that,” she sympathizes. “Does it help at all when I attempt to rationalize or would you like to ramble and search for an answer with my help?” 

“You’d do that?” 

She’d do anything for him. 

“Absolutely, Spence. If there’s a way I can help you ease your mind, I’m going to help.” 

“Why?” 

“Well…”

Because I love you. 

“Um, cause I like being your friend and I feel like you don’t have a friend who you can really talk to.” 

It’s convincing enough. 

“Okay,” he believes her. “You just have to promise me to do the same. Please talk to me. I uh, I have a hard time understanding meaning in people’s words and actions sometimes, and I’d hate to lose you— you know, as a friend and all, just because I couldn’t read something in you.” 

“Well, luckily for you, I also come in audiobook,” she teases, “I can tell you for certain that I like you, Spencer. I enjoy our time together, and in my eyes, you’re really cool.” 

“Really?” 

“Really, really,” she giggles. “And, luckily for you, I have shooting experience… I’ve gone to the gun range with my dad a few times, I can teach you some things if you want?” 

“Are you going to make me feel stupid like your dad does?” 

“If you ever feel that way with me, shoot me,” she’s completely serious. “I’d never want to make you feel like that.” 

“You never have,” he admits. “I can admit I also really like you. I think a bit more than a friend should…”

“Good,” she encourages it. “Cause there’s no rules to what this is, you know that right? We’re not dating, but we’re really good friends… sex with you is going to be great but I also really love these phone calls before bed. Sharing feelings and being open and honest and having fun without a label, just for the summer, is going to be fun.” 

“So if I asked you to be my girlfriend in September, you’d say yes?” 

“Maybe,” she teases him again, but inside she’s screaming at all the possibilities she’s going to have with him. 

“Cat and mouse, that’s what we’re playing,” he can’t help but laugh. “but I’ll get you.” 

“You’re the mouse,” she points out. “You’re the timid one, I’m kind of an asshole, so I’m a cat. It’s obvious.” 

“I haven’t been called a pussy my whole life for this kind of treatment!” He jokingly calls back. 

“Let me be the cat and you can have mine,” she changes her tone and hears him gasp in response. “See. I’m the cat.” 

“Fine,” he gives in with a giggle, probably shaking his head with a cute little smile. 

She never wanted to stop talking to him.

—

When he woke up from his nap to call her before bed, this was the last place he expected the conversation to go. 

“No, you hang up,” she whispers through the phone, “you have to get up in 5 hours…” 

He sighs, looking at the clock to see it's indeed 1 am. “I miss you too much in my sleep.” 

“Oh yeah?” She teases. “Does it not carry into your dreams?” 

He blushes, trying not to give anything away about the flight that shall not be mentioned. He still can’t believe he had such a dirty dream about her in such a public place. She was his boss's daughter, his best friend… the only girl he’s ever liked this much. 

“So that’s a yes,” she answers for him with a laugh. 

“No,” he panics, also laughing, “I mean, yeah… but they’re totally normal dreams, so…” 

“That’s a lie,” she can see right through him. “I know because I’ve been having some good dreams about you too.” 

“I doubt they're like mine,” he mumbles. “You have this crazy effect on me, my body and my soul.” 

“Spence…?” her voice gets even lower.

“Yeah?” 

“My roommate still isn’t back.” 

“Is she supposed to be?” He worries for her, knowing how much Jasmine means to her. 

“She’s out with her new boyfriend, probably getting fucked, so no one is here to hear us,” she spells it all out for him. “If you wanted to tell me what we do in those dreams of yours?” 

A little moan makes its way past his vocal cords and out in a sigh, “you’re serious?” 

Of course, she was. She was his perfect woman sent from heaven just for him. He’s never believed in God, he’s never understood worshiping someone so intensely… now he’d do anything to get on his knees for her. He’d worship her to the fullest extent.

“Come on,” she tries to entice him, not knowing he was already growing hard, willing to do anything with her as long as it was with her. “After asking me if I’ve had an orgasm, I’m sure you’d like to hear me have one?” 

“Fuck,” heat rushes through his body at the thought. She was so sexy, he wanted more than ever to be the one to make her cum, but hearing it would suffice for now. 

“Mmm, are you getting hard for me, baby?” 

“Been hard a while now,” he’s honest with her. “You have that effect on me.”

“If only I was there with you again—

“We’d be picking up where we left off,” he insists. “If my pager hadn’t gone off, I would have devoured your pussy.”

She lets out a startled laugh, not used to him using that language or being so forthcoming. “Really?” 

“Mhm,” he closes his eyes, thinking about it in depth. “I bet you taste delicious, fuck, I can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’d be on my fingers… my face even.” 

Her breathing is heavy but she’s silent, “do you like how that sounds?” He teases. 

“Yeah…” 

“Good,” he’s never been this way with anyone before, but it suddenly felt right. “I need to thank you for taking such good care of me… my hand will never feel as good as yours did.” 

“Are you touching yourself now?” 

He wasn’t yet, but he takes the opportunity to free his cock from his boxers, “better question, are you going to touch yourself?” 

“Can I?” She acts extra innocent. “Please?” 

“Do you have any toys?” He wonders, hoping it’s not too much to ask. 

“I do,” she whispers back, “when my roommate found out that Brad couldn’t get me off, she bought me one to make up for it.” 

“That’s nice of her,” he can’t help his mind from thinking about her and her friend together. They seemed very close, it was only natural for people to experiment in college, he wouldn’t blame her if she did. “Can I ask you something really dirty?” 

“Sure?” He can hear her open a drawer and dig around for something. 

“Do you ever get off with her in the room?” 

She laughs, “no, I’ve thought about it… but no. She’s had sex while I’ve been asleep though, I know that’s happened.” 

“Huh,” that must’ve been uncomfortable for her. 

“Why? Did you think we’d get off together?” She teases him. “Is that exciting for you to think about?” 

“Well…”

“Spence—” she laughs at his honesty. “You know, last week also Haley asked if I was into women… apparently me being quiet means I’m gay.” 

“There are rumours that you’re gay going around campus,” Spencer doesn’t hold anything back from her. “I’ve heard guys say that to cope with the fact you won’t date them.” 

She scoffs, “of course, they would.”

“I ruined the mood,” he worries, scolding himself. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

“No, you didn’t,” she soothes him, “I mean, it sucks that they talk about me like that but I don’t care. And all you should care about is the fact that out of every agent there is, I broke my own rules for you.” 

His brain malfunctions at the realization that she did, in fact, pick him out of everyone in the whole FBI. There were rumours spread about her, she was well desired with many options and yet she picked him. “You did…” 

“Cause I like you,” she whispers. “Is it cool that I said all that…” 

“Yeah?” He doesn’t know where the sudden lack of confidence in her voice came from. “I like you too, remember? I know you think this is really delicate, or you think I am… but without rules to break, we don’t have to be that delicate.” 

“God, I wish you were here with me right now,” she whines. 

“I would be delicate, with you at least, to savour it all.” 

“Spence,” his name sounds wonderful on her lips in the dark. “Tell me more.” 

“Okay,” he tries to stay calm, breathing steadily so he doesn’t give away how thoroughly turned on he is. 

And then he hears the hum of her vibrator as she turns it on and a simple sigh of relief from her.

“Being the first guy to make you finish is something I’m going to hang onto with pride. But I’m not just going to stop at one. I could happily live between your legs, you’ll have to physically pull me off.” 

“Shit,” a moan slips from her throat. “I’ve never been overstimulated before…” 

“No?” He relishes the thought. “What if I cuffed you and used that toy on you till you were crying from it?”

She laughs, startled by this side of him. “Fuck me, please, oh my god?” 

He grips his cock at the base, trying not to cum from just her sounds alone. “I wish I was, angel. Fuck,” he strokes himself lightly, thumbing the precum and gliding it along his cock for support. “I wish I was the one making you sound like that right now.” 

“I bet if you fucked me, you’d see that little bulge in my stomach…” 

He groans, gritting his teeth and breathing through his nose, he’s never been this fucking close and denied release before. 

“I’m so close,” she barely whispers, panting as her orgasm catches up to her, he can only imagine how angelic she looks like that: right there on the edge, filled with every good hormone and endorphin known to man, completely blissful. 

“Cum for me,” he instructs, almost forgetting the most important part. “Angel.” 

He listens intently after that as the humming gets more intense, she goes up a level and moans as she ruts against the vibrator. “Spence, Spence,” she starts to unravel. 

She makes his name sound like gospel. Her moans like prayer, repeated and affirming just how much she worships him back. 

“I wish I could feel you cum in me,” she adds, unexpectedly. 

He gasps, his hand stills and his heart almost beats out of his chest as it's covered in his own cum. He’s breathless like he just fell 3 stories and landed on his back, winded and speechless. 

“Are you alive?” She teases him with a giggle. 

“Uh-huh,” he smiles to himself. “a mess, but here, nonetheless.” 

She lets out a long sigh, “do I hang up here or take you to the bathroom with me?” 

“Mute yourself while you pee if you’re embarrassed,” he rationalizes. “I’ve gotta clean up too.” 

“Okay, I’ll be back,” she warns and then the line goes silent. 

He forgets that muting herself means that she can still hear him. This means she now knows he talks to himself while he does little tasks, and he holds himself sometimes too. 

He huffs as he gets out of bed, ‘Jesus, could you have made a bigger mess at 1 in the morning?’ He mumbles to himself. He takes a few tissues from the box and attempts to wipe himself off before stripping the sheets. 

‘Perfect, just fucking perfect,” he throws them into the hamper and opens his drawer in search of a new pair of boxers. 

“I can hear you, you know,” he laughs as she picks back up. “I made just as big of a mess, it’s not that bad for you.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I move home tomorrow so all my other sheets are packed away, I’m going to have to sleep on a wet spot.” 

“Don’t get me hard again,” he’s completely serious, but she still laughs. “I’m probably not going to get to sleep tonight…” 

“A nap and an orgasm… might as well’ve had coffee when you called me,” she teases. “If you make yourself yawn you’ll be able to sleep, I promise.” 

He yawns almost as if she put a spell on him, “hey!” 

“I know how the brain works,” she squeals back. “Do you want to sleep or not?” 

“Preferably with you,” he admits, “but if I’m going to get any sleep tonight, I’m going to have to say goodnight and finish changing my sheets.” 

“Okay, goodnight Spencer. Text me in the morning?”

“Of course, angel,” he wouldn’t ever forget. “I’ll see you in 2 days, good luck tomorrow.”

“Thank you, night.” 

“Night,” he hangs up right after her. 

There’s a silence that feels like something is missing. 

“Love you...” He whispers into the empty room and then sighs. “Too much for my own good.”

—

Jas sits on the edge of Andy’s bed, causing her to stir, “wake up sleepy head, it’s moving day.” 

She groans and rolls into her pillow, “noooo.” 

“Come on, I brought you coffee and breakfast,” she entices her. 

Andy sits up with a sigh, she rubs her eyes and moves her long blond hair out of her face, “I’m exhausted…” 

“How late were you up?” Jas is automatically confused because she never stays up too late. 

“Like 3?” 

“Why?” 

“Spencer and I were on the phone,” she can’t hide her smirk, “we kinda, you know… got off together?” 

Jas basically jumps for joy, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her as she cheers, “oh my god!! You’re growing up so fast!” 

“And I get to see him on Saturday,” she adds, reaching for the iced coffee on her night table that Jas so kindly brought. “How was your night?” 

She shrugs, “we watched America’s next top model in his living room and cuddled, we made dinner together and we had sex before going to sleep at 11:30… it was like we’ve been married for 10 years, it was so routine?” 

“So you feel safe with him?” Andy smiles at her with hope, it was such a wonderful feeling, being in love.

She nods, pressing her lips together in an awkward smile, not wanting to give too much away, she gets bashful. “I think I love him?” 

Andy squeals, bouncing on her bed a bit, “I can’t believe you finally did it!!” 

“Oh, shut up,” she pretends it’s not a big deal. “I haven’t told him yet, I don’t want to scare him off.” 

“It doesn’t matter if he knows! You’re growing up too!” Andy teases her right back, “I’m so happy for you.” 

“You just better spill everything when you fall in love with Stephen Hawking Jr,” she pokes Andy in the side before hugging her. 

Andy rests her chin on Jasmine's shoulder, holding her with her free hand, “I will… I told him I just want to have fun this summer and so he asked if he could ask me out in September when all is said and done and life goes back to normal.” 

“And you said?” She wants every detail STAT! 

“I said we’ll see,” she can’t help but lead her on, “I honestly don’t know how this’ll go, I’m just letting it happen. Who knows, he could change his mind or run away when my dad gets on his case… you know how it goes.” 

“You’re going to end up marrying this kid, I can feel it,” she gets up from Andy’s bed and wanders over to her own. “And we’ll look back on the days we had here, reminiscing about how we weren’t going to date agents and then did that exact thing.” 

“So it’s official, Henderson’s your boyfriend?” 

She nods, “he asked me this morning before I left, he said he didn’t want to see me go without me knowing I meant everything to him…” 

“Oh,” she swoons, “okay, I like him too, that’s so sweet. I’m so happy for you!” 

“I’m happy for you too,” she smiles at her from across the room. “What time do your parents get here?” 

“Move out is at 11, so like 10:30 knowing them,” she laughs, “it’s my dad and aunt Jess coming, Haley’s not walking up all these stairs to help me leave when they’re trying to prevent Jack from exiting early.” 

“It’s going to be weird not living together,” Jas gets emotional. 

Andy’s head tilts to the side while she pouts, “Jas, I’m going to miss you!” 

“You have to come to my apartment sometime this summer?” She makes Andy promise. 

She nods enthusiastically, “of course! Maybe I can bring Spencer and our guys can bond too?” 

“That would be perfect.” 

“You’re not losing me that easy,” she gets up from bed and heads over to wrap Jas up in a hug. “I love you, bestie.” 

“I love you more.” 

—

Pulling up to his boss's house on a Saturday morning was weird. He could admit that. 

Before he can even roll his window down and buzz for the front gate to open, it’s opening on its own. He drives in and the first thing he see’s is Andy, standing in the driveway with a big smile as she waves. 

He carefully parks his car behind her dad's and she’s opening his door before the car is even turned off. “Hi!”

“Hey, Angel,” he keeps his voice low as he gets out and wraps his arms around her for a quick hug. “How are you?” 

“Amazing now,” she smiles with a sweet blush. Her make ups done, her hair is curled and braided, and she looks beautiful for just wanting to paint a room with him. “Blue jeans and Nikes?” She teases him. “Who are you and where is Spencer Reid?” 

“Yes, I own jeans,” he shoves her lightly, “I didn’t want to ruin anything nice.” 

“Smart, and you look good,” she smirks, raising her brows a bit. “Um, did you want a tour?” 

He nods, “sure,” not realizing what she meant by tour. 

She drags him around to the garden, hidden behind a rose bush, she pushes him up against the house and kisses him suddenly. He lets out a shocked gasp before giving in, closing his eyes and relaxing against the wall. She presses against him, leaving him no choice but to wrap his arms around her and hold her close as her tongue explores his mouth. 

He almost forgets they’re just outside her father's house, his boss could literally come around that corner and murder him if he found them, but Andy didn’t care. 

When she pulls back, he feels like she kissed all the smarts from him. He looks at her like an idiot, blinking a few times, “wow.”

“It’s been a long week,” she teases, “I missed you.” 

“You shouldn’t have kissed me,” he teases, his hands lowering over her butt and he pulls her in flush against his chest. “I’m not going to be able to think about anything else for the rest of the day.”

She smirks, moving her hands from where they rested on his shoulders to cup his face. She soothes her thumbs over his cheeks, staring at him contently, “I know, but we get some alone time later…” 

He nods, “and you can steal as many kisses as you you want throughout the day.” He adds with a smirk before leaning in and doing just that. 

She gets caught up in him again, so much so that she lifts one of her legs to get closer to him. He can’t get enough of her as he palms her ass and thigh, she moans into his mouth and then has to pull herself back, hands resting on his chest, “uh-uh, calm down there, cowboy.” 

“Cowboy?” He laughs, “how’d you know thats what I wanted to be when I grew up?” 

“Hotchner’s know everything,” she reminds him. “Now you better be good or else my dad will figure this out.” 

He nods, “I’ll be on my best behaviour, mom,” he teases her. As if he would act out in her father's home. Especially when he knew there were at least 3 guns available to him at all times. He was a scary dude, Spencer wasn’t going to fuck with that.

“Hm, he was right,” she mumbles, tilting her head with a raised brow quickly. 

“Who was?” 

She sighs, “my dad said you’ve got mommy issues, so I figured it would translate into the bedroom.” 

He laughs, but the longer he thinks about it the less funny it gets, “huh…” 

“See,” she smirks, “but I don’t mind, I do too.” 

He nods, “maybe we can talk about it sometime?” 

She gives him a sweet smile, “yeah, I’d love to get to know you a bit better.” 

“Likewise,” he squeezes her butt one last time and then lets her free, “should we go start painting?” 

She kisses him one last time but Spencer continues to push her along, slapping her butt as she skips off in front of him. “Hey!” She laughs, continuing around the bush and back towards the front of the house, the two of them giggle together all the way, they almost miss Derek in the driveway.

“What’s going on here?” He points between them, already skeptical of what their answer could be. He takes his sunglasses off and stares them down. 

“Oh, I was just showing Spencer the garden and he pointed at the hoe and said, ‘oh, I didn’t know Derek was already here?’ and look who showed up,” she lies easily, making Spencer smile. 

“I see how it is,” Derek glares at him, “what are you even doing here?” 

“Helping Andy paint the baby’s room,” it’s a rather simple answer, seeing as it’s the truth. “I’m tall and take orders well, and she doesn’t have to pay me.” 

“Exactly,” Andy agrees. “Speaking of, we still need to tape around the ceiling, did you want to help?” 

“Nope,” Derek shakes his head, “I’m going to build a crib and eat whatever Penelope brings.” 

“Save a sprinkled donut for me,” Spencer requests. 

He gives him a thumbs up before walking off and towards the front door. He quickly runs up the stairs and heads inside without knocking, “that was close.”

“He won’t figure it out,” she sounds so sure of herself. 

Spencer doesn’t know how to take that, so he just keeps walking towards the house and she follows quickly behind. “Have you ever been here before?” 

He shakes his head, letting her go inside first before him. 

Up the staircase and down the hall, she heads right to Jack's room. “So 3 walls are going to be light blue, but this main wall here where the crib will go is going to have a darker blue and I’m going to add clouds later.” 

“Sounds cute,” Spencer agrees, tucking his shirt into his pants before he kneels down to open a paint can. “Do you want to start taking off the outlet covers?” 

She nods, “yeah, I have to go find a screwdriver first.” And then she’s gone, leaving him all alone. 

He takes a look around and looks out the window which faces the wide-open backyard they had surrounded by forest. The closet is already stocked with diapers and baby clothes, there are toys at the bottom and boxes of compacted furniture in the hallway. They were really ready for this baby to join their family. 

“Why are you here?” Aaron stops at the doorway, puzzled to see him. 

“Oh, Andrea asked me if I’d help her paint, cause I’m tall and she wouldn’t have to pay me,” he repeats what he told Derek earlier. 

He purses his lips and nods, “okay, well, thank you, uh, I’m going to put some coffee on. Did you want some?” 

“No thank you, I had some before I got here,” he can’t help but feel awkward. 

Aaron just nods and keeps heading down the stairs, passing Andy on her way back up, who just says: “morning, gotta paint,” and keeps running. 

She closes the door when she returns, resting against it with a sigh, “fuck,” she catches her breath hastily, “I hate those stairs.” 

“You’re not supposed to run up them 2 at a time,” he teases. 

“How did you know?” 

“Based on the sounds of your feet,” he shrugs, it’s how his brain works. “There are 16 steps and you made 8 stomps.”

She smiles as she shakes her head with such fondness for him, that it’s just overflowing into the room. For the first time, he knows. 

This is infatuation, this is longing and yearning and everything ever described in a love song… this was where he had to catch her as she fell for him. 

This was everything he waited his whole life for. 

“What?” He smiles back, feeling just as giddy. 

“Nothing,” she pretends she isn’t overwhelmed with feelings for him. “Um, the tape is there,” she points to the materials, “if you want to start with the ceiling?” 

He nods, quickly snapping back into reality and getting to work. 

They have small talk the same way they would on the phone at night, it flows normally and somehow always ends up with them somehow talking about the meaning of life, philosophy, world religions, aliens, you name it. They didn’t have a limit on what they could talk about with each other, and she actually liked to listen to all his answers, no matter how long and contrived they are. 

They talked all through the paint prep, through the first coat on the main walls and even during their lunch break. Haley ordered them all pizza for a job well done, she was extremely grateful for not having to lift a finger. 

“How do you know so much?” She asks with a twinkle in her eye, adoring him more and more each time he went on a rant about something. 

He normally just shrugs and shakes his head, but this time he stops to really think about it, “when I was a kid I spent a lot of time with my mom, she was a literature professor, so I’ve always been drawn to learning more and reading as much as I could, and I guess all the information is just stuck in here now.” 

“That’s so cool, did you go to class with her a lot?” Andy wants to know more, even though she already knows more than anyone else in Spencer's life. 

He simply nods, “until she couldn’t work anymore.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she assumes the worst. “I lost my mom when I was 3.”

“I’m not sure when I lost my mom,” he admits, biting the inside of his lip and turning away from her, he wasn’t normally an emotional person when in front of others. “She has schizophrenia.” 

“Is she on medications?” 

“Yeah,” he’s quiet, he dips his paintbrush in the deeper blue and begins the outline on the main wall to distract himself. “It’s just hard, being more of a caretaker than a child… as well as her emotional support person, her punching bag and a full-time student.” 

Andy takes the paintbrush from him and puts it down, she pulls him into a hug and holds him close, letting him rest his chin on her shoulder while she snuggled into his. “I know this doesn’t make up for it all, but I wish I knew you growing up so I could’ve given you more hugs all the time.” 

“They say 8 hugs a day keeps your nervous system regulated,” he explains softly without letting her go. 

“So only like 6 more left to give… unless this counts as 2?” She doesn’t let go either. “What’s the appropriate amount of time for a hug.” 

He shrugs with her still in his embrace, “don’t care. I like this one too much.” 

“You know, I really thought we’d end up covered in paint and arguing the whole time,” she admits, not yet letting go. 

“Why?” He laughs, pulling back to look at her. 

“Because I’ve seen too many movies where someone takes charge and the other gets mad so they splash paint on them and then it becomes a paint fight and before you know it, they’re on the floor kissing and covered in paint,” she explains. 

“Like in 10 things I hate about you when they go to the paint place… it’s like paintball but they use water balloons?” 

“How do you know that movie?” She’s genuinely shocked.

“I spend a lot of my time in hotels,” he reminds her and then does the unthinkable. 

He grabs the paintbrush from the paint tray and brushes it along her bicep, “oh no, how did that happen?”

She gasps, “you did not…” 

He nods, lips pressed together, “but I did?” 

“We can’t make the floor blue,” she scolds him but then dips her finger in the paint and boops him on the nose, “there, now we’re even.” 

He pulls her in close and kisses her, smearing the blue paint against her nose and cheek. She rests her hand on his cheek, getting more paint on his face and neck, and then the door opens and they have to break apart in a flurry. 

“Jesus, Marble,” Andy knows right away that it’s just their dog and not her dad. She picks up the cute little Corgi and brings him over, “Spence, this is Marble.”

He pets his head, scratching behind his ear, “Hi Marble. You’re so nice, and quiet? Most dogs bark at me like I’m a danger to them.” 

Andy laughs, “he’s so chill, he’s a Hotchner.” 

“I didn’t know you had a dog?” 

She nods, “he was my uncle Seans, but when he went into rehab the first time Marble came to live with us and now he doesn’t have a dog-friendly apartment.” 

Spencer spends a few more moments petting Marble, taking to him sweetly without noticing how Andy watches him. “You’re going to be good with Jack when he’s born.” 

“You think?” His eyes gleam.

She nods, “you’re gentile and you radiate a calmness that I think us Hotchner's gravitate towards.” 

He just laughs to himself, shaking his head in absolute disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually like me?” 

She sets Marble back down before looking up into Spencer’s eyes, she cups his face in her hands, “start believing it, pretty boy.” 

“You’ll just have to show me how much later,” he teases, “I still don’t know how you sneak out…” 

“Come with me,” she takes his hand and drags him to the door, looking out into the hall to make sure the coast is clear. 

She continues down the hallway to her room, dragging Spencer inside, hearing Marble's little nails click on the hardwood as he follows with a pep in his step. 

She grabs a makeup wipe and carefully takes the paint off Spencer's nose. “My turn,” he takes it from her and wipes the paint off her face too, he’s extra gentle with her, he uses this moment to study her face. There's a gold fleck in her brown eyes, she has so many freckles on her cheeks, she’s everything to him. 

“I can’t wait to be alone with you,” she whispers, “like, really alone.” 

“Me either,” his eyes flick between her lips and back to her eyes, all he’s thinking about is kissing her until he has to leave again. 

But she breaks away, showing him the window, “my window leads to the roof, then I climb down the vines there, it’s not that hard.” 

“Okay, he nods along, “your dad made it seem like you’re some Houdini who can sneak out of anything…” 

“He’s overdramatic,” she laughs. “You should know that by now.” 

“He’s only ever serious at work,” Spencer explains, “at least, I think so… I’m not sure. I’ve always had a hard time reading most people.” 

“I figured,” she tilts her head slightly like she’s been studying him for a while and just found the hypothesis. “You said your mom has schizophrenia?” 

He nods. 

“Have you been checked for Autism?” 

He nods again, “how did you know?” 

“There’s a link between women with schizophrenia and having children with Autism,” she explains, “and most people with autism don't develop schizophrenia.” 

“Really?” His heart stops, that’s the one fear he’s had his whole life. He never wanted to become like his mom. He wanted to grow up and have a family and provide the way he was supposed to. He wanted to be a good dad and marry a good woman to be a good mom to their kids who would only ever know a happy family. 

Andy nods, stepping closer to him, she places a hand on his cheek and brings him in closer to her. She rests her forehead against his, “no matter what, I think you’re wonderful and sweet, and smart… you’re going to lead such a wonderful life, Spencer Reid.” 

“I just hope you’re in it for a while,” he whispers. “A long while.” 

“I hope so too.” 

—

She told him where to park, how to jump the fence and where to wait outside her house, only for him to show up early to throw rocks at her window. 

She opens it with a smirk, “I’m surprised you could hit it,” she whispers, teasing him for his typically bad aim. “Hold on a sec.” 

He nods, not wanting to make too much sound outside, her dad could still hear them and wonder if it’s an intruder… he didn’t need to get shot just to take her on a date. 

She grabs a jacket and a couple throw blankets before climbing out her window and onto the roof, her room was on top of the garage, so it wasn’t like her dad could hear her walking on the shingles. She tosses him the blankets and motions for him to step back while she grabs onto the trellis and shakes it a bit to check if it’s still as sturdy as it once was. She finds her footing, she climbs down carefully and before she knows it, she’s face to face with him in the garden again. 

“Hi,” she whispers, getting closer to his face and brushing her nose against his. 

“Hi,” he whispers back before stealing a quick kiss, he tosses the blankets under one arm and takes her hand in his, “let’s go.” 

It’s so hard not to giggle as they run, Spencer is like a newborn giraffe with his shaky limbs and large strides. They sneak through the bushes, past the trees and over the little stone fence that mapped the perimeter. 

His car is parked just down the street, “I hope you don’t mind, my car is ancient.” 

“It’s cute,” she’s pleasantly surprised by it.  

He walks her to the passenger side and opens the door for her, letting her get settled in before he closes it too. He rushes around to his side and quickly turns the car on.

“What did you have planned for tonight?” 

“Well,” he smirks as he drives off, “Gideon is at his cabin this weekend which means the lake access near his house is vacant and now one can see us…” 

“Ooh,” she likes the sound of that. “You sure he won’t mind us breaking in?” 

He shakes his head, “I asked in advance if I could bring a girl over when he was out of town, so we can watch the stars and stuff… he laughed and told me to knock myself out.” 

“That’s mean,” her brows furrow, giving him a similar upset look that her father carried around on a daily basis. “I seriously don’t understand why they think you’re some nerd virgin?” 

“Cause I am?” He reminds her with a laugh, “I don’t mind. It’s nice that they don’t think I can have something like this because then they aren’t asking me questions, that would be the hard part.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Because if I had the chance to talk about this with them, I’d never be able to shut up,” he admits, turning the same colour as the streetlight they stopped at. “I wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret if they knew I was seeing someone.” 

“Does it bother you that I don’t want anyone to know?” She has been wondering that all week, hoping he didn’t think the worst. “I’m not ashamed to be with you, I don’t think you’re weird or anything, I just don’t want my dad to do to you what he did to Peter.” 

“I heard about that, and just so you know, it wouldn’t phase me, I’m a doctor,” he teases. 

“Funny,” she smacks his arm but then takes his hand in hers. “Seriously, I just want you to get to know me on my terms, not the version I am for my father or the reputation I have at school because of him, I want you to like me for me.” 

“Do you want me to be honest?” He suggests, turning down a dimply lit back road where all his attention stays. 

“Please do.” 

“When I joined the team, your dad was celebrating you getting your GED and getting into Georgetown, he showed me all the photos in his office with you in them, I saw your softball championship and your grade 8 graduation, I heard all about how wonderful, talented and cool you were from him and that’s how I think of you,” he explains and her heart swells. “I know how mean kids can be at school, so what they say doesn’t matter. And frankly, from the moment I met you, I knew I wanted to know all of you, not just the bits of gossip I’ve heard from all over.” 

“My dad said you were a genius, Haley said you were awkward and had a thing for blondes, that’s all I knew going into this,” she admits right back. “I flirted with you at the banquet because I thought it would be fun to make you blush, and then that shade of red became my favourite colour.” 

“I am driving,” he reminds her, overwhelmed with feelings from her confession. 

“Sorry,” she shakes the emotions out. “I’m just excited to be with you, that’s all.” 

“I’m excited to be with you, too,” he admits. “And for what I have planned tonight, how would you feel about me setting up a little picnic and my telescope and we can look at the stars together?” 

“I’d love that?” She can’t believe that’s what he planned. “Really?” 

“It’s all in the trunk, and I’m glad you brought more blankets cause it’s colder than I expected,” he pretends to shiver. 

“It’s the breeze off the lake,” she explains, “too bad I didn’t bring my bathing suit.” 

“I’m not a good swimmer,” he admits. “I never really learned.” 

“So now there are 3 things I get to teach you,” she teases him, so infatuated she could burst. 

“What?” 

“Shooting, sex and swimming.” 

“Fuck you,” he can’t help but laugh, he just shakes his head and turns down Gideons street. 

“I’m trying to get you to!” At least she’s honest. 

“Soon.” 

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[heartless-aro]

For Those Struggling to Come to Terms with Being Aromantic

I talk a lot on here about aro joy, because i feel like a lot of conversations about aromanticism focus on the negative aspects of it, especially the fear of loneliness and isolation. However, i just want to say that aros who aren’t happy and confident in their aromanticism are still wonderful and valued members of our community. While i do my best to emphasize how aromanticism can be beautiful and freeing, it’s just as important for aros, especially young new-to-the-community aros, to talk about their fears of what their aromanticism means for them and for their future.

When you’re told that there’s only one way to achieve true happiness and then you realize that that particular path to happiness is cut off from you, it’s normal and healthy to grieve the life you expected to have. I think a lot of people who are new to the aro community feel alone in their grief when they see those of us who l*ve our aromanticism and find pride and joy in who we are. But if you’re one of those aros who is devastated by the idea that you won’t fall in love or who mourns the experiences you may never have — if you dream of wedding cakes that you may never know the taste of, or scenes of domesticity that you may never play a part in, or embraces that you may never know the warmth of — that’s ok. I can promise you that you aren’t alone. I’ve been there too, and I’m not the only one.

A lot of us who now talk about aro joy were once right where you are, experiencing aro grief. There was a time before I l*ved my aromanticism as I do now, where I was torn to pieces by the idea that the people I l*ve more than anyone will always have someone else, a romantic partner, who they love more than they l*ve me. I used to be terrified of growing up and waking up to an empty house every morning. It took me a long time to really understand and come to terms with what I want my life to look like, and to realize that a lot of the things I grieved weren’t even things I actually wanted but were just… things I was told I should want.

Because that’s what it boils down to really. I knew who I was long before I even knew there were words for people like me, and while I started out happy as myself, over the years I began to internalize a lot of amatonormative ideas of what happiness should like, and I secretly became really scared of what my future would hold. And at that point I began to grieve, not for things that I cherished but ended up losing, but for things that I have never cherished and that are as available to me as they are to anyone else who wants them, with the one key difference being that I don’t want them.

All this is to say that for those who are struggling to find aro joy in the midst of their aro grief, I want you to know that it’s okay. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling. You aren’t alone in your experiences, and you aren’t “betraying” our community somehow by talking about your experiences with aro grief.

The good news though is that, just as aro grief is learned through growing up in an amatanormative society, aro joy can be learned as well. So if you want to find joy in your aromanticism but you haven’t quite found it yet, don’t worry. You’ll get there. And our community won’t just be here for you when you do finally get there. We’ll be here for you now too. We will welcome you with open arms every step of the way.

#aro #aromantic #lgbtq #lgbtqia #aro grief #arospec #things i wrote in one sitting without editing or proofreading #long post

[furiousgoldfish]

The worst, scariest, most shameful things you think about yourself, are not the brutal reality of who you are. These are things you’re scared you are, scared that you’re going to become, scared that it’s close to reality. But, when you look at where all those things came from, it’s almost exclusively from someone who wanted to make you feel ashamed, unworthy, guilty, scared, and easier to argue with, easier to control, easier to back into a corner and kept paralyzed in shame. That is not a place where your reality is born from. That is someone using your insecurities to keep you scared, controlled and paralyzed.

If those things were anywhere close to reality, it would be an unique situation, right? Only you would be experiencing those fears and horrible dread about who you really are, all other people would feel worthy and confident. Yet, almost all of the abused people have the exact same fears: I’m a failure, I’m unworthy, I’m selfish, I’m incapable, I do everything wrong, I ruin everything, I will never be loved, I’m ugly, I’m undesirable, I’m weak, I’m falling behind, I’m worthless, I’m guilty for being abused. It’s a stack of almost universal human fears. And this is all felt by people who have survived abuse, who’ve been fighting for their survival from the start, who’ve shown great capacity for understanding, love, warmth, kindness, compassion, dedication, effort, strength, endurance, progress, independence, pain and joy. How is it possible we’re all feeling those same fears about ourselves, the same doubts and dark thoughts, that don’t actually connect to anything that we’ve done in real life?

Because the abusers keep moving the goalposts for you. Whenever in your life you did things that would normally prove that you’re good, successful, kind and strong, you would get told it’s not enough. The expectations would get higher, the pressure would get worse, and you’d be told you’re nothing if you also don’t do x and y and z, and then another thing, and another. The goalposts for being good moved to ‘perfect’, the goalposts for being kind moved to ‘sacrifice everything for others’, the goalpost for being successful moved to ‘do better than anyone currently existing on the planet’. So it wasn’t enough that you were kind, capable, working hard, struggling thru your issues alone and succeeding more than a normal person your age would, you also had to be absolutely perfect in every way, with no flaws, no mistakes, no bad habits, you had to look a certain way, act a certain way, not be bothered by any injustice or obstacle thrown your way, never express any emotion that wasn’t convenient, never assume that anything you do will ever be good enough. Eventually, the goalposts shift from ‘being a good person is enough’ to ‘if you’re not perfect, you don’t deserve to even exist.’

And these goalposts? They’re not real. Nobody needs or should be reaching for them. They’re damaging, unhealthy, exhausting, emotionally draining, traumatic, and completely impossible to reach. Nobody has done them, nobody needs to, there’s no point to them. Life isn’t about out-preforming everyone so you would deserve to be alive. Yet, you’ll get stuck feeling that if you don’t reach them, you’re not good enough, you’re not human enough for survival. Like you need to prove it to yourself, no matter what. That’s what abusers wanted for you. Endless suffering and struggle to become something that humans aren’t meant to be.

They wanted you to break trying to reach imaginary goalposts that the rest of the humanity was never subjected to. Because there’s no need for it. We’re people. We’re good enough just existing and being kind. We don’t need to have some insane successes behind us. We don’t need to be productive, or look good, or have zero bad habits. The existence of being kind, of giving gentle and positive experiences to others, of experiencing joy, of finding your dreams and chasing after them, of fighting for what you believe in, that will never be worthless, it will never be non-valuable or a failure. Even if you struggle, you have all of this inside of you, and you don’t deserve any shame for struggling, just like we don’t shame people who are sick or injured.

Abandon abuser’s goalposts for you. Suffering and feeling horrible about yourself will not earn you a better life, they will never make you a better person. Shame will never motivate you to do better, it will isolate you in fear of judgement. There is no benefit to feeling endlessly ashamed and not good enough. These are inflicted to hurt you, not to push you forward. They were placed to paralyze and shame you, not to help you become a better and person. They don’t get to decide who you are. They don’t get to have you break down only to earn even more disappointment.

You’re good as you are. You were always good as you were. You were lied to. You deserved so much more acknowledgment, compassion, admiration and love than you got.

#child abuse #cptsd #toxic shame #toxic guilt #abusive parents #psychological abuse #moving goalposts #self doubt #self hatred #fear of being a failure #negative thoughts

[the-midnight-cow]

on being a queer fan of media

*this post contains brief mention of ted lasso s3 e5 spoilers!*

this topic has been on my mind for a while, as a queer person who is soooooo normal about media. and after a conversation with @heyheymarrymearchie (hiiii babe ily so so so much i miss you already take me back to ur city please), another queer enjoyer of media, i decided to make this post.

last night, keeley and jack (two women) kissed on ted lasso, one of my favorite shows at the moment. and when i tell you that i went insane, i’m not kidding. sitting next to my mom in bed i was genuinely shaking and hyperventilating i was SO excited. and for those who don’t watch/aren’t caught up with the show, this was a duo that was presented with a lot of tension and romantic subtext. as far as tv relationships go, the hints were really obvious. and so when my mom saw my reaction, she was like “didn’t you see this coming?”

and that’s when it hit me. if you’re not a queer person, you don’t consume media in the exact same way as queer people do — and that’s not bad! we need people to experience media in all different ways, however, i’d never truly noticed the difference until last night.

see, i had noticed all the clues and hints in advance. but because of all the queerbaiting and experiences of me just reading too much into things, i didn’t let myself hope. i’m not used to seeing explicit queer rep in media that isn’t marketed as specifically queer, and i couldn’t let myself believe that it could exist. i’m quicker to look for red flags in (fictional) queer relationships, i’m wary that they won’t work out, much more so than if it was a straight relationship.

i think this is part of the reason fandom spaces are often so dominated by queer people. seeking representation, we refuse to take media at face value. we search for subtexts, we look for the smallest clues in tv (for the record YES i got hyped when i saw trent’s rainbow mug in the background)—hell, there’s an entire online archive where (mostly) queer people can write the stories we don’t get to see. shoutout to ao3. mwah.

we are so used to getting tricked, so used to being disappointed, so used to only seeing ourselves represented in our own imagination that we believe that’s the only place we’ll be seen. the most famous incidences of queerbaiting are well-known in online spaces, we accept we won’t ever see what we headcanon onscreen. and as a coping mechanism for all this, we accept it. we mourn, sure, but then we steel ourselves for the future. we don’t let ourselves hope. we find solace in creating our own content, we acknowledge our hearts are the only place it will ever live in.

so yes. yes, i saw last night coming. i always do. but i don’t dare let myself believe.

and so for anyone who always sees their sexuality represented, they will never quite understand this unique experience. there is joy in the progress we see and the communities we make, there is anger in what has not yet come to be. being a queer fan of media is an experience like no other. but no matter what, i wouldn’t trade it for the world.

#rambles #queer rep #media analysis #ted lasso spoilers

[lavenoon]

In the comic of Robin meeting Eclipse, their daydream had a Sun & Moon ring. Is that also the ring they would get when they eventually actually get married/engaged?

and if so- Who proposed? I can only assume Sun because he's a peacock, but it would be immensely cute if it was Moon. OR EVEN BETTER IF BOTH OF THEM PROPOSED SEPARATELY DJKFAHAJ

Hi, I'm normal about them <3 -G

So the short answer is "All of them but also no one but also all of them again"

The long answer is… 

Sun and Moon want to, very very much. But they simply can’t settle on how to ask Y/N! They have a ring (not exactly what Robin envisioned, maybe, simply because that one was a fantasy, but a celestial engagement ring combining both a Sun and a Moon just seemed… like the best choice. The most obvious, too) and they know they both want to be there, but… How? Their eclipse mode is out of question - as much as they love their little brother, no one knows if another split wouldn’t fry something irreparably, and they can’t risk that. They were already an experiment, combining two AIs in one body, and Eclipse ended up being even more of one - they can’t do that anymore.

So they bicker back and forth about who'll get to actually pop the question, not settling on any clear plan - but we know how well their plans to tell Y/N something important usually goes. 

One day, just around the switch, with both of them still active, Y/N pops into their room after a little knock, looking just like they usually do (which is to say, to the idiots in love, stunning, breathtaking, gorgeous - oh wait, they’re talking)

“What?” 

“I said, legally, do you guys count as one person or two?” 

Tricky question - one they haven’t thought about themselves, either. They feel like individuals, but they also can’t imagine being without the other, and there aren’t many other animatronics like them. They aren’t even sure if the law knows whether they count as one or two.

“... Why?” 

“Well, I was just thinking, if we wanted to marry, how that’d work?” 

Bluescreening just barely avoided, but they need a moment. With audible strain to their voice they ask again - 

“What?” 

That’s when Y/N gets flustered, too. Looks away, raises their shoulders a bit, hides their face. Quieter and quieter, they elaborate.

“I mean, just. Hypothetically. Some day. If you guys want to.” 

And, even quieter, barely audible: 

“I’d want to.” 

The boys rush forward then, taking their hands in their own, gently tilting their head back up so they look at them again. 

“Did you just propose to us?” 

More fluster - because, well, this! Was supposed to be a hypothetical conversation! Nothing set in stone, but if they’re asking… 

“I mean, I guess? I kinda just wanted to know if we could, legally, before I actually propose!” 

Boys start wheezing, gently lowering themselves towards the ground, still holding on to Y/N. Just more and more hysterical giggles as Y/N looks on like “whelp. accidentally proposed to my boyfriends and officially broke them bc I forgot how to be subtle around them”

They decide to snap them out of it with a tried and true method. 

“Please don’t die because I proposed. Eclipse would never let me live it down.” 

It… works, and it doesn’t. The boys first wheeze even more, but then look up at them with just the giddiest smile on their face. 

“Love, we’ll gladly take that bullet for you - Eclipse will never let us live down that we hesitated so long you ended up being faster than us.” 

Now it’s on Y/N to blink and process. Boys get up, leaving them for a moment to grab the ring box. Dark blue, but with crimson red velvet inside. And of course the ring - which you’re not getting a picture of because I’ve been looking for like 20 minutes without finding something that sparks pure joy and I simply want to write instead. It’d be a combination of the sun and moon somehow - maybe even one of those double rings usually meant for couples, one sun one moon, both to be worn by Y/N. Go ham! It’s both of their symbols, because they love the thought of that kind of irrefutable claim, but apart from that, I simply cannot settle. 

Whichever boy is currently backseat driving does accept this outcome - it wasn’t planned, and he’ll get his own conversation about this later, but for now he stays awake and watches (with commentary in their head)

The other goes down on one knee, all traditional (but still seems ridiculously tall), and then officially asks the question. 

“Will you marry us?” 

Not traditional, now Y/N breaks out in giggles - not as hysterically, but still very very giddy. But when they grin at their boys their eyes shine with unshed tears, and the happiness is just radiating off of them. They reach past the ring to cup their boyfriends’ face 

“Yes, you goobers. I’d do it right now, and without hesitation. I decided that I want you in my life ages ago, and I’ve already kissed you for it. I’ll declare it to the world and kiss you again, and again, and again. As often and for as long as you’ll have me.” 

Here I think the boys would react a li’l differently. 

Moon would grin, playfulness through the roof. “Can I get that in writing? Wait - wait, we know. Write it in your vows!” as Y/N laughs at this new level of antics. They can already see it coming, how much he’ll enjoy it, but they wouldn’t have it any other way. They let go only to slip on their new ring, and then he cups their face instead to pull them in for a kiss <3 

(He’d also be the one who’d love to make fiancé/ future husband his brand. “Jilted husband” jokes in the same style as the Miette post, he’d pretend he’s withering and dying because they haven’t kissed him in almost an hour, and really, how’s he supposed to do his job under these conditions? But also demands soo many cuddles because “fiancé privileges”) 

Sun would regard them with such warmth in his expression he’s giving his namesake a run for its money. “We could start with forever, then.” He’d slip the ring on himself, babbling a bit about how if they didn’t like this one, they could always get a different one, and this one could be a placeholder, how they didn’t mean to presume- Y/N interrupts him with a kiss, not in the traditional sense, but because he’s easily distracted by physical affection. “It’s perfect,” they say, and then he just has to kiss them again. 

(He’d be the one who’d love to stage a public proposal with Y/N’s permission, bonus points if they permit multiple proposals at different locations simply for the fun of it and also maybe to get some sort of reaction out of people; prompt discounts, elicit excited gasps, maybe even just make things really uncomfortable for someone who flirted with either of them a little too much. Also bonus points if it’s a meant to be extremely flashy diversion at a mission, dramatic bastard /aff)

(They also all have a very mature conversation about their timeline, their general hard boundaries for married life, the fact that they'd need to figure out the law exactly, how it'll affect work, what they'll do about work, stuff like that. And then kiss each other silly again <3)

#answer let luce #G asks #accidentally undercover #they're all idiots alright they just evolve into idiots in love <3 #Robin pretends as if they dont enjoy the reactions to public proposals as much but they love being a menace attention just flusters them #why is this like 1.2k words and feels short #my normal. it has become too unhinged #anyways yes! this would be how a canon proposal would go #except i refuse to settle on who's out and who's backseat driving #pick your fave <3 sorry eclipse simps /j

[everythingwritingg]

Overcoming Imposter Syndrome

By @everything.writing on IG

Something common that many writers experience, for a multitude of reasons. This could be due to external pressure to be a certain type of writer, or it could be due to them not having low self esteem even before they started writing. If you’re experiencing it, you’re not alone.

Understand that what you’re feeling is normal. You might think you’re the only one that feels this way, but truth is, almost every writer will experience imposter syndrome at some point in their writing journey. Don’t beat yourself up for not being as confident as you would like to be.

Dig deeper and identify what your biggest insecurities are. Are you a newer writer who feels like you aren’t valid because you don’t have as much experience as the pros? Or do you feel like you aren’t as valid of a writer because you only write 200 words every day and you see people on social media writing 5K+ words per day? Identifying what’s bothering you can help you with the next step.

Use positive affirmations to reassure yourself. Tell yourself things such as, “I’m a great writer,” or “every writer is on their unique journey.” Positive affirmations might sound cheesy, but internalizing them can help combat the negative thoughts.

Keep writing. When imposter syndrome is severe, it might cause you to feel like your story is not worthy of being written. THAT IS NOT TRUE! Your story can only be told by YOU. Continue to write, and don’t listen to the voice inside you you’re unworthy.

Remind yourself of all your achievements. Though you might be a newer writer, you can celebrate winning NaNoWriMo for the first time. If you don’t write every day, you can still celebrate that you managed to finish a book! Being proud of your achievements can make you feel less incompetent.

Remember that every writer is on their own path. Even the best writers started out as beginners. In addition, some people have a family and a day job and can’t make the time to write as much as full-time writers do. Comparison is truly the thief of joy, and there’s no one way to be a writer. You are valid no matter what.

Talk about it with other people. Chances are, other writers are either going through the same experience or have experienced imposter syndrome at one point in their life. Even if you don’t have many writer friends, you can still talk about it with loved ones, who might feel like they have imposter syndrome in other aspects of life. Talking about problems makes them feel a lot smaller and easier to tackle.

I wish I could’ve provided more tips, but it’s the week before Winter Break and you know what that means when you’re in school: teachers cram all the assignments, projects, and tests. Regardless, I hope the tips I managed to give have helped you.